


UF Origins: Season 1, Episode 5: "Big Iron".

by Turandokht, Voyager989



Series: UF Origins [6]
Category: Multi-Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Multiple Crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-25 04:14:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17114258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turandokht/pseuds/Turandokht, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voyager989/pseuds/Voyager989
Summary: This story fully incorporates and is set during the Firefly follow-on comic "Leaves on the Wind" written by Whedon's brother under the Dark Horse banner.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Introduction_ **

Captain Zhen’var had particular beliefs about what should happen when an Admiral came to visit her ship. At the news that Admiral Davies--the Vice-Chief of Naval Operations--was arriving for an inspection and meeting, she had turned the ship out from top to bottom. Chief Dugan had turned the punishment details to double-time, laying down the knife-hand as he had driven the lower deck into a disciplined frenzy of effort. Stasia had arrived in her field uniform with a Sam Browne belt over her flight blues and manned the brooms to clean the aviation spaces. Elia had started going around all of the ship except engineering to do white glove inspections, and of course Anna had done the same in engineering. 

The Dilgar crewers were actually utterly terrified of the inspection, and had thrown their backs into preparing the ship. They had briefly reached 100% operational readiness for the cleaning drones, and they had broken out the mops and rags anyway. A few of Fei’nur’s Dilgar marines were sporting black eyes with no story of a fight and the deck could be eaten off of in the marine spaces. When the flight deck was clean, the Mongeese were polished and the kill markings touched up. All was in readiness. The band was assembled and waiting on the deck of the shuttle bay, and the entire crew were in full dress whites except the Marines, wearing their dress greens and the flight personnel, dress blues. 

The officers couldn’t help but exchange grins. They fully expected to impress, and the Warrants and NCOs surged with pride as well as the bay doors opened, the atmospheric screen glimmering within as the shuttle made its approach. The band was ready to play  _ Hail to the Spirit of Liberty,  _ since the Sousa tunes were well in evidence with the preferences of the founders of the Alliance.

Captain Zhen’var stood at the head of her officers, stiff-backed as the shuttle glided in, knowing that the lines of her crew were ruler straight, the entire ship ready for an Admiral’s inspection.

The shuttle settled down to the deck, and once the post-flight and cycling on the airlock were complete, the ramp extending smoothly, the hatch opened. Admiral Davies stepped out with his staff and two guards trailing behind. The band struck up  _ Hail to the Spirit of Liberty.  _ He started down the ranks to Captain Zhen’var. 

She held at attention, managing to suppress the urge for her hand to want to shoot up when he came within speaking distance. “Admiral Davies,  _ sir _ , welcome aboard  _ Huáscar!” _

“Captain Zhen’var. I see you’ve turned her out smartly,” he answered, coming to attention. She could see his own hand pause. “Reminds me of home, in fact. Prepare the crew for review.” 

“ _ Sir _ .” She turned her head precisely. “Bugler!  _ Atten-tion!” _ Three short notes blared out across the hangar deck.

The ranks snapped to inspection order. Admiral Davies watched for a moment, and then started down the lines of the assembled. His inspection was sharp, precise, and serious. Divisions stiffened as he passed, rippling spreading down the bay around the Admiral’s party.

The Admiral checked uniform fittings, proper wear of medals, observed the correctness of the sailors and officers of all ranks. Then he returned to Zhen’var. There was a grudging admiration in his look. “Captain, you have turned your ship out like a proper vessel of a regular military. Good show. You may dismiss the party.”

“Admiral, sir. Bugler, Assembly,  _ Dis-miss!”  _ The crew broke out in dismissal order as Davies watched. 

“Captain, if you would come with me, and have the senior officers ready for a briefing in thirty minutes?” He glanced down to her, his eyes flicking for a moment across the assembled ranks. 

“Of course, sir. Commander Atreiad, please assemble the full command staff in thirty minutes.” Zhen’var gave the order simply, then stepped to Admiral Davies’ side, two steps behind.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he turned to the other officers. “Senior Command and Department Heads to Assemble in Conference Suite One in thirty minutes,” Will repeated to them, stepping away. 

Davies made time with his staff at Zhen’var’s side, and then paused by the turbolift. “Commander Travis,” he addressed the ranking woman in the group, “go to Conference Suite One and get ready for the briefing, I’ll be meeting with the Captain privately of course.” 

“Sir.” 

The Dilgar woman was keeping her fluttering stomach tightly in rein, concerned about whether or not they  _ had _ really done well.

As they got into the turbolift for her Ready Room, Davies smiled faintly. “You have turned out the ship really quite well, Captain. She represents the kind of pride and military bearing that I would like to see in all the ships of the Alliance Stellar Navy.”

“Thank you, sir. The crew has come together well, and we of the Union are exceptionally keen to comport ourselves in a way to bring honour to our home and the Alliance as a whole.”

“I admit this was not an experiment I supported at first, but you have proved yourselves anyway. Admission to the Alliance is a foregone conclusion within the next year, Captain.” The turbolift arrived, and they stepped across the bridge to key into her Ready Room.

“I am grateful to hear it, Admiral.” Her eyes darted around the room for the moment - even in here, she had arranged everything perfectly for an Admiral’s inspection.

“I will be honest about something else,” he said as the door closed, moving to sit first. “My first response to Admiral Maran granting you this command was ‘this is the most nuts thing he’s done yet’.” A wry smile. “You have certainly proved your competence and stability, Captain. That matter is closed.”

“I understand how it may have looked, Admiral.” She returned the smile, equally wry and small as she sat after him. “We are not a conventional crew, nor I a conventional captain, but I believe we serve well enough.”

“What I saw out there looked a lot more like a conventional crew than I had expected, or that I see elsewhere in this Navy, frankly, Captain. You have my appreciation for it.” He glanced to the picture of Captain Grau. “The  _ Huáscar  _ is a true fighting ship.” 

“The blood of the old Imperium, turned towards liberty, alloyed with the enthusiasm of the rest of the crew is a potent mix, Admiral. I am proud to lead them, sir, as we build a tradition of this name under a new flag.”

“As you should be. You know, Captain, the Alliance wasn’t something any of our nations  _ wanted.  _ It was forced onto us by grim necessity, to control and direct the application of this technology, and prevent the utter horrors of its proliferation… Which we are still experiencing in some real measure.” 

“We conquer or perish, sir. We may find ourselves compelled to annihilate all the oppressors in the multiverse to find peace and freedom, I confess myself starting to believe.”

“Endless war is not healthy for democracy, Captain. It demands a kind of attitude and sacrifices which may keep us safe, but will excite resistance from many areas. Realistically, there has to be a better way for us to find, something which doesn’t entail a perpetual armed camp. It might be possible for many of these risks to be managed by efforts less than war. I don’t pretend to have the answers there, nor should we even necessarily discuss them, but I do ask you to bear in mind that many of these greatest threats are the result of species, intelligences much beyond on our own. You know that already from the Vorlons and Shadows. These threats, the powers they evidence, are a unique challenge to democratic equality and have proved themselves to underlay the fleets we have faced.”

“I agree with those points, sir. What we wish, and what happens, may differ, but if we stand together, the Alliance can come out stronger from the crucible. That I believe, I have to.”

He grinned. “I’ve certainly learned that you are a practical woman. Your support for the repatriations to Psi-Corps showed it from your first mission. Well, how do you see Dilgar society settling in to the Alliance? The Union’s story of survival is certainly one of the more remarkable events in the Multiverse.”

“At least for a while, sir, we are going to be a combination of the Ghurkas and the Quarians. That is to say, we will volunteer in large numbers to be seconded into the Alliance service, but I also believe the Dilgar talent at reverse-engineering and making items of wildly disparate technology bases work together is invaluable, once it can be demonstrated. That, however, requires our economy and population to recover, which turns back to the first point.” She grimaced at having to be so blunt, but it was  _ true _ . They had survived, but  _ not _ with any real power, not on a galactic scale.

“You are proud and honest. It is enough. I hope practical considerations will drive us closer together. And, your work in the fleet has been excellent. You seem prepared to set an example as we move to implement more regular military discipline in the future.” 

“We would be honored to be an example to other ships, Admiral.”

“Well, let’s get over to the conference suite,” he answered, rising. “This mission is an interesting one, and should be challenging enough for your talents.”

“You will please forgive if that phrase does not fill me with confidence it will be an  _ easy _ one.” Zhen’var replied smoothly as she followed to her feet. “After you, sir.”

“Right-o,” he chuckled as he stepped out of the ready room, though he pitched his voice lower. “You know, Captain, not many of us actually like the crew of the  _ Aurora.  _ They are in an almost extra-constitutional position, able to influence the government despite nominally being low ranking. Really, they should have all left their ship and entered politics after forming the country. But they didn’t, in part because we didn’t want them to be leaders either. It was a complicated, frankly terrifying time. The fate of multiple entire universes was held in the hands of a small group of inexperienced young people who were recklessly disseminating technology and threatening wars. The Alliance was created as much to rein them in as to fulfill their vision.”

“Perhaps, sir. What has been unleashed on the multi-verse cannot be arrested now. I fear we must hope that their good intentions will fuel good deeds, as they gain both experience and restraint.” She chose her words carefully, trying to stay neutral in tone towards fellow officers.

“Certainly so. You have certainly come out winners in the events they unleashed, though. We will see about all of us. We will see.” He stepped forward into the briefing room, watching with approval as the  _ Huáscar _ ’s officers snapped to attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Davies began, “I first want to congratulate you on a very successful beginning to the  _ Huáscar _ ’s story in Alliance service,” he allowed, giving Zhen’var a chance to reach her own place at the table. “You have set new standards for our service.”

Zhen’var sat, then, and gave a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. Everyone was in place, and now they would find out just what new mission the upper command echelons had for them.

“Welcome to Universe F7S4,” he said, bringing up an image of a battered, gray and yellowed Earth, though it still had seas, which dominated the surface. “Approximately four thousand years ago it went through runaway global warming and was swept with disease. We found small descendant remnants of isolated and indigenous groups with stone-age development only, as well as a dense satellite belt and some evidence of Moon and Mars bases. Most interestingly of all…”

He brought up an image of an immense carved pyramid. “There are two of these, one on the location of Chicago and one on the location of Beijing. They contain pictographic star maps pointing to the Cyrannus Star System.”

Will jerked in his seat. “Admiral, Sir, you mean…”

“This universe may have  _ also  _ seen the same events which led to the formation of your people, yes, Commander.” Admiral Davies agreed. “Except different, of course. No Gersallians, no Dorei, no Coserians. And Earth is not completely lifeless. But the problem is we imaged the Cyrannus star system,” the next image showed gravity sensor outputs.

“What we found is that the Star System contains five main sequence stars, not four, and that it has multiple additional stars which do not match any known sequence. These stars … May be artificial.”

“Artificial stars, Admiral?” Fera’xero’s vocoder flashed in obvious astonishment. “The only star which may be artificial is that within the Dyson Sphere the United Federation of Planets found, and the conventional hypothesis says it is natural.”

“Commander, we don’t know yet, but it is a possibility. One we need to investigate. That kind of technology could radically alter the balance of power in the universe, and could be used for all kinds of nefarious as well as beneficial purposes.” He brought up the next image. “And here we have the final piece which makes this interesting. We have definitive evidence of an anomaly originating from the system in subspace which looks like it may fundamentally interfere with the operation of conventional FTL technologies. So after two weeks at high warp to get there, you’ll have to spend a month working your way in-system with impulse. Interuniversal drives should still work, however, if you need to escape in a hurry. Your objective is to thoroughly survey the system, find any survivors of this universe’s humanity, and understand the source of the FTL interference and the possibly artificial stars. Due to the distance and logistics constraints involved you will be operating with complete latitude, independent from comms to headquarters.”

“Of course, Admiral! We will need to load additional supplies, we should be ready to depart within two to three days - several longer, if we require off-ship fabrication of certain spares.”

“I would like you underway within the next five days,” Admiral Davies answered. “Priority will be given to the  _ Huáscar  _ for supply of spares.” 

“Then it can be done, Admiral, and we shall do so.” Readiness for inspection and for a possible multi-month deployment were different, but they would make Davies’ deadline. They  _ had _ to, to keep the reputation they were slowly starting to earn.

“Excellent. Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I have every confidence in the success of  _ Huáscar  _ on this mission. You stand dismissed.” He nodded to his own staff, who rose and assembled with him. He gestured to Zhen’var to step closer, though, as the others departed. 

“Captain, I just wanted to say that I do also appreciate your legacy of following a hard, honourable course in complicated situations. It gives me confidence that you will make difficult choices correctly in the future. We are beset with many powerful enemies, metaphysical ones, outside of the realms of mere starships and guns. I appeal to you to stick to your guns and remember the hard decisions you’ve made in the past if you are ever confronted with new hard decisions in this service.”

“I do not intend to change, sir.” Zhen’var replied, her posture reflexively stiffening. “It is the duty of  _ kshatriya _ to fight, and fight wisely and bravely when we do.”

“Good. We cannot predict the future, but if we maintain the right comportment, we will face it calmly when the storm comes to call. You stand dismissed, Captain. Thank you.” With that, he departed with his staff, and left Zhen’var to prepare for her mission. 

  
  
  
  


**_Undiscovered Frontier: Origins_ **

**_Season 1 Episode 5_ **

**_“Big Iron”_ **


	2. Act 1

**Act 1**

When they arrived at the Earth of this universe, now designated F1S4, Elia looked below at the sand-blasted plains on the viewscreen from her position in the  _ Huáscar _ ’s command chair. The oceans had not boiled off, and ultimately had helped stabilize the planet’s climate. With the abandonment of the surface by technological civilisation, the oceans had stabilised. They were still almost totally barren of many forms of life, dominated by squid and algae. On the land surface, immense jungles dominated what had once been the Great Plains; further south, in a huge band around the equator on both sides, nothing lived. The Pampas was home to the largest group of surviving humans, cultivating cassava root where the verdant plains were now an immense jungle in the south.

In the northerly climes, in Baffinland and northern Greenland, small, primitive farming communities growing wheat and maize crops remained, mostly the descendants of Inuit and some caucasians. On the Tibetan plateau, descendants of Nepalis had migrated to grow crops on the extremities, around the arroyos formed by the total melting of the glaciers, with complex cultures descended from local peoples in the western part of Yunnan on the high peaks. This group was totally isolated from the north, just as the groups in the south were totally isolated as well, including the utterly fascinating culture which as far as the first contact groups had ascertained, had been descended from a mix of Maori and indigenous Australian peoples who had taken boats to Antarctica. 

The tales they told to the strictly controlled anthropological teams were wild, of the aeons ago when great ships had spanned the stars and an alliance of two nations had dictated the fate of the Earth. The dying Earth that they had abandoned, leaving the undesirable populations, the forgotten minorities, the sick and the infirmed, behind to die. Instead, with the typical aplomb of humans, the indigenous Amazonians had migrated south, the Aymara had adapted to cassava and moved further into the Andes above the plateaus to grow it on verdant tropical slopes above blasted sand plateaus, the Inuit had integrated the Danes and Canadians and began to practice agriculture, the Lapps some remaining Scandinavians and migrated to Franz Josef Land and Novaya Zemla, and the indigenous Australians and Maori had sailed the great Southern Ocean to find a new land to live in. Human life was tenacious, and Elia was proud of it. 

Violeta, coming off shift, paused by her side. “Commander, it’s quite remarkable, isn’t it? This is the worst-case scenario for a Hothouse Earth and we’re looking at it, what, almost four thousand years after the greenhouse gas emissions were stopped?”

“Something like that,” Elia answered. “Our ancestors were such utter fools, but it’s amazing to look back on the documents of the time and think that people seriously believed it would scour the surface and render humanity extinct. We’re too much like rats or pigs for that. And Mother Earth is as resilient as all hell.” She winked. Elia didn’t mind the young helmswoman, even if she sometimes wore her culture shock on her sleeve. 

“What’s the population?” 

“The surveys aren’t sure, just upper and lower bounds--somewhere between one half and two million in all the little isolated cultures.”

“Is that because of the restrictions on contact?”

“Yes, just highly sanitized anthropological teams that aren’t using modern equipment,” Elia nodded. “No detailed scans so far. It’s being debated on whether or not they should be provided assistance. I think it’s ridiculous of course, so does Nah’dur. She’s already written this long missive up through medical command citing a few hundred references to indigenous community medicine and how to provide medical and technological assistance at a pace and in a fashion respectful to indigenous communities. She doesn’t understand why we don’t just learn their languages, open clinics, and started working with their traditional healers to begin integrating modern medicine.”

“Any concerns about the consequences of contact? Granted, not like I’d  _ ever  _ expect the Surgeon-Commander to be worried about such things.” 

“Not from me, to be honest, Lieutenant. We’ve just got to recognise that the local people have the first right to everything, including how to  _ use  _ the technology we give to them--to reject and adopt it in their own time, regardless of what we  _ think  _ is best for them. That’s the key.” 

“Hnnh.” Violeta looked at the planet. 

“Ask Chief Héen about it,” Elia answered. “She gets boiling mad about the prospect of just letting generation after generation of people live and die without modern technology on planets. The key is to offer it as a gift, and let people decide themselves what to do with it and how much of it to take, rather than impose our own moral judgements and constraints. That’s why I’m hoping the very skilled rules lawyers in the Alliance manage to win the case arguing that since they  _ were  _ an interstellar civilisation, they still count, that their current condition is artificial, not natural, and so we can implement those protocols. Of course, then we’ll have to fight to save them from the opposite direction, you know. But some of the anthropologists have already been in contact with the Alliance Indigenous Rights Advocacy.” 

“It’s not quite so cut and dried as the Federation Prime Directive, I know,” Violeta answered, thoughtfully. 

“The Prime Directive is moronic,” Elia replied emphatically. “This is about letting indigenous, undeveloped peoples make their own decisions. The idea that we should be protecting them from technology they haven’t developed on their own is racist, frankly, or speciesist, depending on the circumstance. We need to let them choose what technology they want, and let them choose how to use it. Stone age, iron age peoples aren’t any less intelligent than we are. Just look at Anna. She went from steam engines to warp cores.”

“You’re right, Commander,” Violeta said after a moment. “You’re right. There’s nothing else to it. I hope we succeed in winning that court case.”

“Well, the AIRA,” Elia grinned. “We’re officers of the Government, we can’t lobby the Senate.” A wink. 

“I’m sure we had nothing to do with it!” 

“Precisely. Enjoy your rack-time, Leftenant. I’m sure this world will sort itself out. We’ll help, but as long as they’re in the driver’s seat, it will be fine.” 

  
  
  
  


The ancient space station hung in orbit of Jupiter. The interior was covered in slogans of Chinese and English. They had been inscribed into the walls, and now were marked by archaeological survey tape. Dr. Fanaru, the Alakin archaeologist leading the team, greeted Abebech and Commander Goodenough as they drifted in. 

“Commanders,” he said. “I apologise about the lack of pressurisation, however, if we brought up the pressure on this station up, it would likely explode. The neutron brittleness from almost four thousand years has completely eliminated all strength that it has. To be honest, we are lucky we arrived when we did; not much longer and the gravity tides of Jupiter and Io would wrench her apart. The sulphur scouring on the hull has already opened numerous voids.”

“I’d assumed as much, don’t worry about it,” Abebech answered through her suit comms.

“Like a rotted wreck in Neptune’s grave,” Goodenough murmured. “So what’s the situation with the coordinates? I understand there’s a second station orbiting Europa?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” 

“Are there any additional findings to what’s already been found, Doctor?” Abebech looked around the haunting age of the abandoned toroidal space station. It had been a receiving and transfer point for gas and Ioian exotics--fuel products, in short. 

“Just the content of these messages,” he answered, gesturing to them on the wall of the station. 

Goodenough followed his message. “ _ Forward, to our Universe. _ ” He shook his head. “Rather bloody enigmatic, isn’t it, Ma’am?” He offered to Abebech. “Like ‘Croatan’, bloody near.” 

“...Heh, I suppose you are right. It  _ is  _ rather like ‘Croatan’,” Abebech answered with a bemused smile. “Now that’s an old story.” 

“Depends on what universe you’re from, Ma’am.” 

“Near to three hundred years dead, even in your’s,” Abebech replied mildly. “Still, you are quite right. So, Doctor,” she turned her attention back to the man, “you’re confident the references add up to directions to the Cyrannus Star System?”

“Absolutely, Commander. I put that forward in my report.”

“Well, yes, but I just wanted to see it for myself and make sure that report accurately reflected your beliefs,” Abebech responded, looking around at the layout of the station. Unfortunately, it wasn’t familiar as she had hoped, but she still had her suspicions.

  
  
  
  
  


Will was in Primary Astrogation, the facility that Arterus usually operated, with both the Rihannsu Lieutenant and Commander Fera’xero, looking over long-range passive sensor data. Anna Poniatowska was with them, doing calculations in the back. The  _ Heermann  _ had docked and the  _ Huáscar  _ had started off toward the Cyrannus Star System, cruising at Warp 9. The standardized scale for the Alliance differed from the Federation’s to remove problems with the growth of warp speed capabilities in time. At that speed it would take them twenty-seven days to cover the approximately 1,800 lightyears to Cyrannus. 

Anna was interested in the outputs because operations at that speed would overtax multiple components of the warp drive. Nominally the speed was a maximum cruise, but the difference between maximum cruise and regular cruise existed because regular cruising speed was at the bottom of the inflexion point in the speed/energy ratio of a warp drive, whereas maximum cruise was dictated by the power output of the reactors. In theory the ship could supply the energy to the drives for maximum cruise indefinitely, but in practice they were forcing almost ten times as much power into the warp coils at that speed as they did at normal peacetime cruising (Warp 8) even though the difference in speed was much smaller. At Warp 8 the Alliance scale synchronized with 8,000 _ c _ ; at Warp 9 they were pulling more than 24,000 _ c,  _ but the energy consumed was ten times greater. The speed advantage of Darglan drives was noticeable, but not extreme; the sustained cruising speed of a brand new Federation  _ Intrepid  _ was 6,000 _ c.  _ At maximum warp the difference was actually  _ less.  _

Running at maximum warp, the drives rapidly burned through components and suffered brittleness from bombardment from exotic energies at the subspace interface. This was Anna’s main interest. She was charting subspace with Fera’xero to try and figure out how much wear would be inflicted on the drive, and therefore what their actual optimal cruising speed was. If they had to stop to replace parts before they reached the system, for instance, it might have actually made more sense to just stay at Warp 8.8 or some figure like that for the journey, keeping them below thresholds at which they would need to replace components and thus eliminating the time at impulse spent doing so. Though even maximum sustained cruise was a misnomer. Between refueling and navigating around subspace anomalies and regular, non-bombardment based wear and tear, the average speed on extreme long duration missions would average out to about half of the nominal cruising speed. That was why galactic exploration with warp drive was not viable on the timescales of a human lifespan. 

“Alright, Sector Delta-four-niner?” Anna glanced up to where Fera’xero and Commander Atreiad were talking. 

“Getting you the results now, Commander,” Fera’xero answered. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” She started plotting the subspace conditions and matching them against drive wear and impacts on velocity. “So, Will, still trying to figure out if this matches at all the stories of the migration of the Twelve Colonies?”

“Yes, to see if they conflated Kobol with Earth and Kobol was really just a stop along the way,” Will answered, looking up from the star charts he was looking over with the Quarian science officer. 

“Any luck so far?” 

“Not in the slightest,” Will answered. “Beyond the fact that this Earth isn’t scoured, there seem to be a lot of differences.” 

Anna started running her latest tabulation on what was a glorified spreadsheet capable of quantifying and executing linear algaebra operations. She rose and went to the replicator. “Want some coffee, Will?” 

“Sure,” he chuckled, stepping over, too. “Back in a minute, Fera’xero.”

“Oh, it’s fine, there’s several other things to catch up on,” the Quarian answered. “I wouldn’t keep you from the magic black drink which appears necessary for human life.”

Will laughed. “I guess it’s true. I tried to keep from getting addicted, and I failed.” 

“There is nothing more civilised than coffee and wine,” Anna smiled as her selection appeared, and she handed Will’s over as well. “It must be hard for you, Commander, the revelations that have come out, I mean.”

“That the Cylons are related to some kind of fanatical Gersallian religious terrorist group?” 

“Yes, that one,” Anna agreed. “Of incredible age, too.”

“I don’t understand why they did anything. A lot of people are saying much of our history is built on a lie, now, but I don’t know about that,” Will answered. “It’s incredibly disruptive to our efforts to build Colonial society. To be honest, I’m glad I’m not there.”

“I feel the same way about the Mickiewicz regime,” Anna answered. “The reasons are very different, of course.” 

“The problem is his agents can go to the Alliance Senate and insist he is a democracy that needs help,” Will answered.  

“He might just succeed, it isn’t completely false. But there’s no religious or ideological tolerance in his democracy. Honestly, I mean, I am a supporter of the Republic of Both Nations and the Intermarium,” Anna sighed and pulled her  _ Huáscar  _ baseball cap off to run a hand through her hair. At least Zhen’var had relented on the wearing of them when it was clear the SS remnants weren’t as much of a threat as thought. “So if we could reestablish that geography of cultural tolerance, it would be a great lesson for our homeworld. But what we’re going to do about the Orthodox Population in central Ukraine and Smolensk? Forcibly convert them to the Greek Rite? The Republic of Both Nations was also completely tolerant of Jews. Officially, of course...”

“But practically, you can’t stop the fire you’ve unleashed.” Will looked at the sharp, practical woman who had survived revolution and Siberian exile, and put himself in the shoes of her people, who now choked on a feast back home. What they shared was the fact that both societies’ efforts to build themselves into something new had been disrupted. 

“I’m worried about the future,” Will’s face scrunched into a frown and he turned back to Fera’xero’s map. “We’ll lose our religion, and our culture, and be swept away. Suffer almost as badly as Stasia’s people or the other indigenous Americans. Already, people are asking if our entire religion is a lie, our entire society a joke.”

“Would it matter?” Anna took his hand impulsively, then released it with a wry smile. “Friend, it is hard. But would it matter? The Poles did not stop being the nation of Piast the Wheelwright when his descendant and heir Mieszko King converted us to Christianity. Stasia’s people are Orthodox, but she seems nothing of Russia to me, and little of America. Your people are too distinctive to be swept away, you are your own tribe and now that you have finally settled far from your enemies, you may yet rise from small numbers to great fame. Such has been the story of many peoples, also.” 

Will sighed, and smiled. “You know, Anna, you might be a democrat now, but you still have a Royalist conception of History. It’s poetic. Thank you. I needed that, the debate has been stressful, especially this far away from where it’s actually happening.”

“Well, it’s not like I gave up being Szlachta of the Poniatowscy,” she answered with a laugh. “Just because we are a Republic doesn’t mean we lack a nobility, that’s always been Poland. Come on, let’s see if we have some results. Sometimes, as much as the psychs hate to admit it, the best cure is distraction.”

  
  
  
  
  


The usual work of maintaining the health of the crew of a starship was, if not boring, then at least routine, and Nah’dur dealt with it as a kind of autopilot in which training, experience and talent handled most issues by rote, with her mind focused on other things and her senses keyed to notice anything out of the ordinary. When a real challenge existed, she usually noticed it, focused on it, and dealt with it. This allowed her plenty of mental time to keep up to date on the computer programmes and lab samples she had running, 

Of all of her side experiments, some required of her, and some she’d taken up voluntarily, the most interesting was the one that Urdnot Wrex had requested she execute. The most irritating part of it was accepting the money he sent for equipment so she could use reimbursable funds for procurement outside of the normal lab fit on a cruiser; the paperwork had been onerous in the extreme. The interesting part was pitting her wits against a collection of long-dead Salarians. 

She had already made recent progress in improving the overall birthrate, but Nah’dur was uncontent with such measures. She wanted something much better to show Wrex than that. And so she had kept working, and now she had the beginnings of something. 

“Personal Log, Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur. I continue to work on the solution for the genophage. The Salarians were, in certain respects, clever. They made the genophage self-reproducing from any cell in a Krogan organism. However, the mechanism of effect is itself clumsy and primitive, essentially weakening and thinning the protective extracellular matrix of Krogan embryos so that they fail primarily in the blastula stage.” 

A pause, as she reflected on the situation. “Essentially, my objective is to either harden or replace the blastoderm. It’s clear that hardening is the preferred method, which requires genetic modification--but that modification will be relatively trivial as it is focused entirely on the female reproductive organs. The problem is this: If I harden the blastoderm, I must account for the fact it separates into and forms the nervous tissue, blood vessels, and intestines during later stages of embryonic development. The Krogan KDH4 protein causes differentiation between procursor neural cells and precursor epithelial cells. I will use this protein to control expression of my genetic modification; this will leave the neural cells intact. Note that the entire blastoderm will not be hardened. It will simply reduce the statistical probability of failure. Because during gastrulation the ectoderm forms the primary protective layer we approach fifty percent of the previous Krogan rate of viability, with a limited continued risk through the blastopore. This should increase the Krogan birthrate by a factor of fifty to sixty, pending final tests. A factor of one hundred and forty would be required to restore the Krogan pre-genophage birthrate, but this is not strictly necessary for Krogan survival and will require more effort. 

“The risk is in subsequent failures in growth in the embryo because the skin lacks sufficient elasticity to allow for normal embryonic development. I am solving this by incorporating a deactivating protein into the mesoderm, so as the mesoderm is created it will progressively come in contact with the outer embryo layers through the blastopore development phase. The protein will then migrate slowly to the surface of the precursor epithelial layer as it is designed for cellular diffusion through chemical gradients. I believe this process can be made seamless enough that it will prevent re-introduction of risk.”

She stretched, making a soft noise of pleasure at the sound of her muscles tensing and relaxing. “In conclusion, I’ve begun accelerated testing with the samples Battlemaster Wrex has provided to me, and we’re two months at most away from having a test sample for use on a Krogan female. To improve long-term Krogan chances of survival I am preparing a Kroganised copy of the Universal Vaccine for integration into the genetic therapy retrovirus.”

Nah’dur began to compose the written report based on the verbal log when a slow clapping came from the door to her office. She jerked around to look. “Commander Imra. You were listening.” 

“I was listening,” she agreed, and stepped forward. “You know that many in Universe M4P2 will try to kill you to keep this from seeing the light of day, don’t you?” 

“Being on a heavily armed and armoured war-cruiser which randomly changes universes and has a regiment of Marines onboard with a Spectre leading them is my first line of defence,” Nah’dur answered matter-of-factly. “I have several others of course.” 

“No doubt you do.” Abebech leaned against the doorframe. “I have a request for you, daughter of the House of Dur.” 

“Yes?” Nah’dur’s eyes narrowed at the precise sort of address. 

“I gave you genetic samples.” 

“That’s correct, you did. That’s part of our agreement. And I have kept doctoring your medical files, just as we agreed.” 

Abebech’s eyes shot up to the ceiling, but Nah’dur laughed.

“Don’t worry, Commander, I have things set up so in my office the recordings are not accurate.” 

“So it is. You’ll like the challenge, then.” She extended a secured medical transport vial with a nano-refrigeration pack. “This is a genetic sample from a telepath who assisted Psi-Corps personnel during the late siege of Tau Atris. I’d like you to compare it to my own. It may make a recent event more coherent.”

Nah’dur took the vial and looked at it. “So that’s all? Just a comparison?” 

“In particular of the telepath genes.” 

“Oh-ah, I see where this is going. The hypothesis that telepathy is impossible to evolve on its own.” 

“Correct.”

“You’ll have it. Maybe even by the end of this mission. They say it will last a while.” 

“Thank you, Surgeon-Commander.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem, Commander Imra. I like you.” 

“From you, I take that as a compliment,” she answered, and turned away. 

“Good.” Nah’dur had her own suspicions about the Commander by now; but she knew the Commander had her own about  _ her,  _ and so, to Nah’dur, the best outcome was companionable silence. She finished writing up her report to Wrex and sent it out. 

Next, she turned her attention to her inbox. As they traveled further off the comms network, communications outside of the  _ Huáscar  _ would become more and more spotty, and she wanted to check up on the last activity from her felinoid advocacy group. The last ‘net video had twice as many views as the first, and Princess nar Sihkag was already proving to be an entertaining friend. Her connection there had led to some interesting dissemination of technology; the Bloodfang would make a nice replacement for their old Centauri models and Thoruns, now that the Kilrathi themselves couldn’t build it anymore, but the Union certainly could. 

_ Speaking of, you should get back to Teras Rimasi’s message.  _ Nah’dur brought up the information from the Alacan woman. She was part of the small ‘Survival Fraction’ who had responded to the offer from Warmaster Shai’jhur for medical assistance with their reproduction (the rest would rather die than accept help from the Dilgar, and it was quite controversial), and Nah’dur intended to make a point about felinoid solidarity by restoring their complete viability.  _ Anything mother did, I can un-do. _

  
  
  
  
  


Violeta was standing her turn as the Officer of the Watch as they approached the Cyrannus system. She was drinking coffee from a handleless Navy mug of the type that had become ubiquitous on the  _ Huáscar.  _ The gesture hid her nervousness. They didn’t really understand what the subspace interference band was, nor its exact range of effect. Everything about it had been informed speculation from long-range passive sensors.

And they were rapidly approaching that barrier, whatever it was and whatever example it would take. “Reduce speed to Warp Three,” she ordered Ensign Wilkins at her own normal station of the helm. 

“Reducing to Warp Factor Three, Ma’am,” Joanne Wilkins answered. “Warp field contracting…” The ship shuddered. “We’re having problems stabilizing the Warp Field!”

Violeta tapped the comms open to engineering. “Engineering, this is the Bridge. Can we stabilize the warp field?” 

Lieutenant Ker’ohk answered. “ _ Bridge,  _ Lieutenant Ker’ohk, we’re having trouble maintaining coherency in the Warp Field. If we reduce velocity but maintain power I may be able to force it to stabilize, but it will completely collapse above Warp Three, that is fact.” 

“Go to Warp Two with the power consumption of Warp Three and configure the field as you see fit,” Violeta answered, feeling her fingers uncomfortably pressed into Captain Zhen’var’s granite boards for armrests. 

“Aye, Sir. I’ve summoned Commander Poniatowska to Engineering control.”

Zhen’var arrived on the bridge a moment later. Commander Imra was on her heels.  _ They must have been having their weekly dinner together,  _ Violeta mused for a moment as she rose. “Captain on the bridge!” The military call had become familiar for her by now.

“At ease,” Zhen’var rejoindered. “Leftenant, report.” 

“We’ve entered a region in which we are suffering degradation of the warp field. It occurred shortly after we slowed to Warp Three as planned. We should be able to maintain it without the subspace matrix in the focusing crystals but we’re having trouble with a field even here and are only holding Warp Two. There was a shudder when we entered the field.”

“I noticed, Leftenant. Sound Condition Yellow.” 

“Condition Yellow,” Violeta answered, activating the alarms. “All hands, this is the Officer of the Watch. Be ready for unexpected subspace turbulence. Set MC Yoke throughout the ship.” She tapped off the comm as the alarms howled. “Captain,” she continued, “do you want the ship?” 

“No, Leftenant, you have the ship,” Zhen’var answered, and gestured to the science station for Commander Imra, who followed her there. Ensign Oulata, the Alakin science officer of the third watch, was on duty. 

“We’re having more and more difficulty holding even a field at Warp Two stable, Captain,” the Ensign reported. 

“How far out are we?” 

“About twelve hundred and thirty AU from the innermost star and closing rapidly. The system resembles almost nothing of Cyrannus, Captain, Commander, there’s an extra primary and there’s… Lots of tiny stars that shouldn’t…”

“Enough of that, Ensign,” Commander Imra said, softly, but firmly. “We have a bigger problem right now.” Abebech tensed. “The subspace gradients.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He brought them up quickly.

“There, look,” she pointed.

“You’re right,” Zhen’var agreed, though her subspace physics were shabby at best, so she activated her omnitool. “Commander Poniatowska?” 

“Captain?”

“Interface with the Bridge Science Console. What do you see?” 

“The subspace equivalent of  _ shoal water,  _ Captain! We can’t hit that, it will break continuity of the warp field!” 

Zhen’var watched them rapidly approaching the line. It looked to be located at about 1,225 AU from the white star at the centre of the system, and they were now only four and a half minutes from it. “Leftenant, when I give you a mark, you will bring the ship out of warp with the utmost alacrity.” 

“Captain,” Violeta affirmed, and rose again to stand by her helm ensign. “Ensign Wilkins, stand by to execute.” 

Zhen’var raised a hand. “Stand by… Stand by…  _ Execute! _ ”

“Drop out of warp,” Violeta ordered.

“Zero-Zero!” Ensign Wilkins answered and the powerful drives of the  _ Huáscar  _ de-powered their warp fields, the ship flinging to a relative stop. There was a rolling shudder through the hull. 

Zhen’var and Abebech exchanged a look. Zhen’var tapped her omnitool again. “Commander Poniatowska, report.”

“We nicked the edge of the field. It was within the ability of the drive dampers to deal with it, Captain.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Zhen’var looked at the displays. “They’re communicating.” 

“Definitely, Captain,” Ensign Oulata replied. “We’ve been picking up more and more evidence that. There is a complex, interplanetary civilisation. Interstellar if you want to be technical, it’s spread through the entire cluster. But not with us. There  _ is  _ some evidence of supralight communications capability.”

“Despite the jamming field?” Zhen’var expressed some surprise. 

“Yes, Captain, it..”

“Check the Iota band of hyperspace,” Abebech said. “If my idea is right…”

“Yes, it looks like they’re punching hyperspace comms through there, Ma’am,” Oulata agreed. 

“Curious and curiouser. So far your hypothesis has been spot-on, Commander Imra. You had some experience with similar technology back at home, I am inferring.”

“Correct, Captain,” Abebech replied modestly. “Which means I know what to do next, since it is our priority even to the exclusion of first contact.”

“Agreed on that point,” Zhen’var answered. “Go on.”

“We can charge the Chambers coils on the warp drives and see the beginning of instability, then power down. We can keep repeating it on an arc from our current position. Use the shuttles, too. Once we’ve inscribed the approximate circumference of the arc from the angle of the field, and we have two discrete points along the arc…”

“We’ll know the exact spatial location of the field generator and can set our course at impulse toward it,” Zhen’var finished. “Concur. Leftenant Arterria, take your best guess for the next field position assuming an arc congruent with the system’s dimensions as our first guess. Move to the next position and charge the Chambers coils.” She tapped her comm and briefly explained what was going to happen to Anna.

“Well, Captain, I may need to replace the coils by the time this is done. Even with the automatic interlocks powering them down, the disruption field is serious.”

“Do we have replacements?”

“Yes, enough for two failures a drive. But we only need to charge two drives at once, Captain, not all four.”

“Excellent point. Leftenant, did you hear that?” 

“Yes, Captain. We’ll configure the drive for two nacelles at a time.”

“Very good. Let’s start to get to the bottom of this mystery.” She looked at the system plot and the overlaid comparison of Cyrannus, and shook her head. “And what a mystery it is… Leftenant, take personal command of the helm, please, I want my best helmswoman for this. Commander Imra, you have the bridge.”

“Of course, Captain.”

  
  
  
  
  


The pilots and GIBs of the Wing were filled with rumours about what was going on as they made their long sublight burn in-system. In that sense, Artesia found them to be identical to the pilots on the  _ White Base.  _ Major Lar’shan, however, was adamant that they could launch at any time. With the Wing on alert, there was no booze and they were sleeping in bunks near the hangar. However, ten percent of the Wing was being released at any time to eat in the Mess or Cafe Varna, and it was Artesia’s turn. Her bank account kept filling up with credits--her brother made sure she was getting a stipend--but she didn’t really feel motivated to spend them, so the Mess it was.

She found Commander Elia Saumarez curled into two Dilgar wearing Mha’dorn pins that matched her own. The three were all clustered into something of a pile in a booth. In front of them was a large basket of something that looked sincerely good. 

“Leftenant,” Elia greeted. < _ Come have a seat?> _

< _ Thank you,> _ Artesia answered. Communicating telepathically was still an experience that she struggled to adapt to. “What you’re eating looks really good,” she offered.

Va’tor, the mental hygienist, smiled lazily, which could be ominous in a Dilgar, except that she signified gentle welcome as Artesia sat across from them. < _ It’s called Chicken 65. It’s the Captain’s favourite, and it’s really good. Help yourself.> _

Artesia sat across from them and tried some. It was very good, and also very spicy. Her eyes widened for a moment. < _Yes, good, but I need something to drink._ > She got up and had the replicator get her a big glass of _Mare Rosso,_ the soft drink popular in Spain, and some buttered garlic bread, since she wasn’t a carnivore, and returned to the table, offering the later to Elia.

< _ Mmn, Carbs,> _ Elia grinned. 

Combat Master Gha’tir, from the fresh Marine company that Colonel Fei’nur had received, blinked dramatically. He reached over to Elia. < _ El’sau, you are ridiculous. That is not food.> _

< _ There’s a part of me that feels you’re right,> _ Elia agreed, and had more chicken. “It happens,” she added for Artesia. “Gestalt with aliens, start thinking you’re a carnivore.” 

“I admit, it’s not an experience I’ve had yet,” Artesia answered, carefully. “You all seem close.” 

“She’s been among us Mha’dorn now long enough for her mental flavour, if you will, to overcome the sense of her being alien,” Gha’tir explained. 

“Just like we might be shipmates long enough for you to get used to my bare hands,” Artesia offered to Elia, brushing her hair back. 

“...” Elia blushed. “Artesia..”

“Yes, yes, I know it’s serious. Still. The Dilgar have bare hands.”

“Covered in fur,” Elia protested, but she was smiling now. “I admit, it’s hard. Our culture says: ‘Oh merciful God, cover them up.’ But I know intellectually it’s something of an enforced disability. Also, in my case, a sign of identity and pride, as it is for many of us.” 

“Telepaths in Zeon don’t have a culture distinct from Zeonic culture, of course. And we still are generally calling ourselves Newtypes, though it’s all from me following things on the ‘net. I won’t pretend to be heavily involved with it, I’m not really sure I want to be.” 

“I would consider that a blessing, Artesia. Maybe now Zeon can find its way in peace.” 

“That’s the plan,” Artesia laughed softly, and had more of the chicken. It really was quite good. “What do you think about this mission?” 

“Another usual display of wizardry on the part of Anna and Abebech,” Elia answered. “Now we’re heading at sublight toward the source of the distortion, and how they localised it was just utter brilliance. I may be a good operations officer, but I am  _ far  _ behind on the science, and I know it.”

“I think almost all of us feel that way,” Artesia admitted. “It was neat to think about how Minovsky Physics fit into the schema of the Multiverse, but it also pushes the limits of what I understand.”

_ <Oh look, they’ve started talking science, _ > Va’tor declared melodramatically. 

Artesia heard it that time and waved. < _ Guilty as charged.> _

< _ I suppose enough of that. Anyway, Artesia, it’s healthy for me to learn to respect different kinds of telepath cultures. Commander Imra sort of spoiled me with those spectacular gloves she always wears, even if they wouldn’t meet regulation in the Corps. _ >

< _ What  _ is  _ up with her? Other telepaths from her home universe don’t wear gloves. I’ve seen images.> _

< _ To be honest, my working hypothesis is that she’s a human-Zigonian chimaera. They exist to enhance human telepathic powers. She’s  _ **_strong,_ ** _ and an incorrect number of digits on her hands could be hidden by custom gloves, and she never lets anyone see her eyes. But she’s tall and her proportions are normal, which isn’t the case with normal hybrids. So I’m not sure.> _

_ <Huh. Well, she is polite, but reserved.> _

_ <It’s the reserved part that’s hard. I know you weren’t raised with other telepaths so you’re not used to it yourself, but the bonds formed are hard and fast,> _ Va’tor explained. < _ Probably we Mha’dorn are some of the only Dilgar really comfortable around aliens because of it. And it just seems odd that Commander Imra isn’t the same.> _

_ <Respect her difference, too?> _ Artesia ventured with a shrug. She felt the tug of loneliness, away from her brother, away from Amuro, but she had dealt with it, and expected she would continue to deal with it. 

_ <I’d be terrified not to!> _

  
  
  
  
  


Will was standing watch as the  _ Huáscar  _ powered further into the vast system, the days slowly passing by as more details of the system were revealed. Some of the stars looked hauntingly familiar, the stars of his people. But this was not the Cyrannus he had grown up in. It was something else, now with a single new star and the orbits perturbed to be organised around that single great Type A star with more than twice the mass of Sol. He recognized that as Helios Alpha -- Sun A, literally, in his native language, proof of the artificial means by which they had come to exist in Cyrannus. There was Helios Beta, Helios Delta, Helios Gamma, the four suns of Cyrannus. But in the outer system was a blue star which did not belong here, and a half-dozen lesser suns glowed, strange proto-stars that Fera’xero was still aggressively analyzing. The system was a wonder.

An artificial wonder, their onboard scientists began to suspect. From start to finish it seemed engineered. That left Will with the unsettling question of whether or not Cyrannus itself was engineered.  _ Maybe they just got more ambitious here.  _ The comms staff was still trying to break through to the Iota band that most of the communications worked through. They were coasting at c-fractional velocities now, having reached a speed which could carry them across the expansive system in fifteen days. There was no need for further engine power that would cause more time dilation and diminishing returns that would make it harder to slow down.

Abebech’s reconnaissance method had already proved that the jamming effect was not actually centred on the system, not even close to it. Instead it stood well off in one quadrant near one of the proto-stars. That was the current destination of their course, cutting at an angle across the system.

It was Lieutenant Richards at Ops who gave him the warning. “Commander… We’ve got a force of seventeen ships of varying tonnage and design burning to intercept us. They’re moving in from the outermost proto-star, and we won’t be able to evade while continuing toward our target.”

Will’s face tightened. He had hoped for a hail or some other kind of friendly communication as they worked to decode the communications of this system. Hopefully ones familiar to his own tongue. Instead… “Open contact.” 

“Sir, standing directives from the Captain for this operation were to maintain comms silence…” CPO Bor’eri reminded him at comms.

“They clearly know we’re here, Chief.”

“Sir.” A moment later, the answer came back as what his gut had feared it would be: “No response, Sir.”

“Again.” He activated the control on the command chair which sent the Condition Yellow signal throughout the ship. “All hands, this is the XO speaking. Condition Yellow, set modified Zebra throughout the ship.” He killed the comm, knowing it would bring Zhen’var running from her sea cabin moments later. “Lieutenant Richards, shields up, weapons to standby, but do not bring batteries to full power or energize targeting sensors. Chief Bor’eri?”

“Aye-aye sir,” Richards answered.

“Still no response, Sir,” The Dilgar Chief confirmed.

“Again.”

This time, Bor’eri decided he would use a tight-beam laser instead of conventional hailing, since the Commander clearly wanted to  _ talk  _ to the potential enemies, and the comm hails weren’t working. That produced a much more immediate effect. 

“ _ Sir, _ ” Richards frowned. “They’re adjusting their course and increasing thrust. Intercept heading.”

The doors to the bridge from the Captain’s Sea Cabin and Ready Room opened. “Will, what do we have?” Zhen’var looked as fully composed and ready as ever.

Commander Will Atreiad shook his head.  _ So much for a peaceful contact with a people I thought might be my closest cousins.  _ He popped his knuckles. “The locals have found us, Sir, and their idea of a welcoming party is burning hard on a sublight intercept vector.”


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**

 

“Very well. You may keep the conn, Commander.” Zhen’var had a pensive look on her face as she moved to stand behind her chair.

“Understood, Captain.” A moment later his omnitool chimed. Since they were holding their parasite craft in reserve, here so far from home, not wanting to give away their full strength, Commander Imra had taken secondary command. 

“They are on an intercept course,” Lieutenant Richards confirmed. “Not a single one of the ships is identical. I think they’re all armed merchants, but some show very high power-mass ratios. It’s also going to be fifteen minutes until they’re in weapons range.”

Daria had reached tactical and took over, the Dorei’s fingers skittering over the board as she completed a review of the situation. “Charge on cannon banks good, shields nominal, Sir.”

“I’m going to go to Condition Red in another five minutes, Captain,” Will rested his hands on the granite. It was comfortably warm; he had discovered Zhen’var’s heater setting under it. “Ops, do we have a visual?”

RIchards tightened her baseball cap lower on her head and shifted the controls. “Yessir. Bringing it on.” Following the principle of directives, not orders, the answer to Will’s question was not simply a yes or no, but a solution to the implied, or desired, outcome. 

The image that came on the screen was of a rag-tag collection of interplanetary ships. Some rusted, some were relatively new, all were heavily modified, many with massive additional thrust-blocks. 

“Do we have mass assessments on them?” Will asked, frowning. They looked like a rag-tag band of pirates, really. One could see where the guns had been added. 

“Yes, Sir; they’re all under seven hundred kilotons.”

Will nodded and looked at his chrono. It was time. He flipped the control over to the outmost setting. The bridge lights went red and the klaxon howled. “Condition Red, General Quarters! All hands, man your battlestations! Set MC Zebra throughout the ship!” 

“Captain has the deck.” Zhen’var spoke softly, stepping forward as the klaxons sounded. Combat was in the offing, and she would be the one to give the order.

“I stand relieved, Ma’am.” Will rose and stepped to the side chair. All the presumptive enemy ships were still thrusting toward them. Behind him, Elia assumed her position at Ops, having arrived from sleep just in time for the closing of the bulkhead hatches and spacetight doors.

“Three fighter squadrons on Ready Five, the rest of the wing is standing to ready ten and will be there in six minutes,” Elia reported. “All compartments secure, full military power available, all weapons charged and ready. With Commander Imra at Secondary Control, we have the  _ Heermann  _ at Alert Ten under Goodenough.”

“Begin escalation of force procedures.” Zhen’var moved to sit, strapping herself in.  _ Shout, show, shove, shoot to warn, shoot to kill. Divine, but they are going to take it to the last.  _

“We have already cleared the first S. De-accelerate rapidly to show our ability to dictate the terms of engagement,” Will told Violeta. 

Violeta keyed in the commands for a complex set of manoeuvres while violently de-accelerating. As planned, the ship didn’t feel it internally, but as they reduced from their ballistic trajectory, they opened the time to weapons range with the prospective enemy and showed that they weren’t a dead, unresponsive barge, but a responsive and handy cruiser. The enemy responded by coming about to correct for the engagement parabolic. 

“Second S down… they’re continuing to present a hostile posture. Continue warning them off and set course directly for them. Warn them that we have the right to transit this open space,” Elia explained. This was, to the Alliance, interstellar space and anyone could be in it, though she felt this immense system was treated as one whole by those who lived in it. 

“Shove?” Violeta asked.

“We’ll do it literally if we come into tractor range before they open fire,” Will answered. It was a truly by the book interpretation of the book for a starship. But they were far from home, and wanted to give every opportunity to de-escalate. “Captain, they really don’t seem like a regular military force. They’re not holding formation and there’s no sign of communications yet.”

“We still haven’t cracked the encoding of the high band network comms in this system through hyperspace. They might be using that to communicate,” Elia speculated, “but we’re not going to have enough time to make sure. Tactical,” she addressed Daria, “plan on it being a ruse d’guerre.”

“Understood, Ops. Approaching tractor range in one minute.”

“Expect the worst.” Zhen’var interjected. “This looks like a charging  _ horde _ .”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Will stared at the image, continuously updated to the changing size with distance, deceptively making it look like the ships weren’t gaining on them.  _ Enough of that. It’s bad for tactical picture.  _ “Ops, get us something better.”

Elia brought up a three-d rectified tactical plot on the viewscreen instead. “Fifteen seconds. They’re holding fire or they don’t have the range, Captain.”

“Standing by with tractor beam…” Daria sang out. “We’ll bump the largest. Ops, brace for impact.”

“Sound collision,” Elia noted and activated the controls. Five sharp blasts cut through the intercom. 

“And… Pushing.” Violeta activated the tractor beam with steadily ramping force. Tractor beams were not meant to be used against onrushing objects regularly, but Zhen’var had insisted on drilling to use the tractor beam as a weapon in its own right, and in particular as a less-than-lethal weapon for a starship. The issue was the  _ shock  _ this could cause to the using vessel, which would after all have to accept the change in momentum.

But the  _ Huáscar  _ was much larger than her target. The cruiser shuddered and bucked beneath them, and the engines screamed to briefly counterbalance the surge of momentum against their course. The  _ target  _ went flying, bodily pushed back and tumbling out of the loose, disordered formation of the other sixteen ships. 

“Shove,” Elia murmured. Ahead of them, the remaining sixteen vessels still came on, and despite the lack of a coherent formation, the seventeenth brought her engines up to full power and boosted hard to catch up, as if completely unaffected by the blow. As she did, though, the others started to spread out in an englobing manoeuvre. 

“Warning shots, expect this  _ not to work,  _ we may be moving quickly to firing in earnest.” Zhen’var’s voice cracked out as she tightened her restraints.

Daria quickly planned an impressive barrage, and sent the guns to peak recharge while they were not being fired upon. She activated the pattern and sent fire from the main and secondary batteries lancing around the ships in a display designed to shock and awe them with coordination, precision, and the energy in the beams. It was far more than just warning shots, it was a deadly warning of just what the  _ Huáscar _ ’s batteries could do. 

Every single one of the unknown ships went to full thrust, coiling back in like a flower closing back up. As they did, they opened fire. 

“Tactical, you are  _ fire free _ , helm, evasive action!” The Captain watched the repeaters as the weapons flared.  _ Are they  _ **_suicidal_ ** _? _

The  _ Huáscar _ ’s ship’s power flickered. Elia’s face turned baleful as she leaned down toward her console. “Very precise weapons fire. Directed EMP burst packets--those weapons are intended to disable, not destroy. I’m adjusting the shields to compensate to avoid those pinpoint surges.” 

Violeta was spinning the  _ Huáscar  _ through a series of tight snap-rolls to try and evade the incoming fire, but the swarm stayed with them, their weapons never missing against such a massive target. They were optimised to engage much smaller ships and that made the  _ Huáscar  _ a sitting duck… Except for the fact that the energy shields were like nothing they had encountered. The EMP weapons were directly draining them, but the sheer power of the naqia reactors fronting them made this no easy challenge. 

Daria chose to open fire with energy weapons only. They were far, far from home, and if this entire system went hot against them, they needed to conserve torpedoes except for the direst of emergencies. She selected the full banks of Model 1 and 2 Plasma Cannon and Pulse Emitters and directed the fire of  _ fifty-four  _ energy weapons against the biting globe of gnats which surrounded them. 

Daria didn’t waste time diverting fire among many different targets, either. She used the computers to concentrate the batteries on one per primary arc, and then opened fire. The eruption of pulses and bolts of plasma cannon fire at relatively short ranges turned the space around the  _ Huáscar  _ into a continuous sheet of energy. As it did, three of Daria’s four targets failed to evade.

The ships struck were carved viscerally by the concentration of fire. Mostly converted merchantmen and without shields, they had no resistance. Flames from the venting atmosphere igniting under the enormous heat of the plasma rippled along shattered hulls and bulkheads and in one case a reactor detonated outright, completely destroying the hulk. 

“Shields holding at ninety percent, Captain,” Elia reported. “Captain, one of the largest just kicked her engines to  _ full burn-- _ collision course!”

“They are trying to  _ board. _ Ops, helm, evade!”  _ This makes no sense…! _

A second ship thrust forward as the second was caught with tractors. She was going much too fast than even to board. Daria opened fire with every weapon that could bear to port, including torpedoes this time. The first ship, caught in the tractor beams by Elia, was bracketed in tremendous explosions, and despite being larger than the ships destroyed before, and better protected, perhaps a real warship, started to come apart as forty torpedoes detonated along her flanks. 

The second ship was taken by the energy weapons in a massive bracketing of fire which ripped down her flanks, but even as a burning ruin she plunged on. Venting vapourised hull plating turned to plasma and atmosphere burning as flame before it dissipated into space, the ruin carried on and bodily slammed into the shields of the  _ Huáscar.  _ The shock through the hull, striking on the lower part of the shields, was transmitted by the generators and sent her rolling to port on her beam ends as a massive explosion of the reactor overcharging in the wreck and detonating with the fusion of her fuel supplies spread along the shields, the energy barrier distorting the explosion down the length of the cruiser, and catching on the curve of the shields bucking her back up to level as Violeta fought to keep her under control.

Daria grimaced as she rocked against the straps in her chair, and the batteries were firing again, she managed to destroy another to starboard as these two had gone in, and now there were only eleven… And moments later only eight as again her heavy guns spoke. 

“Primary and secondary shields have failed, Captain! The EMP bursts are now severely disrupting cohesion of the remaining shield layer,” Elia reported crisply. She didn’t bother to report the casualties or the damage to the primary shield generators’ mountings, Nah’dur and Anna would respectively handle those and they weren’t important to Zhen’var’s tactical picture at the moment. 

“Helm, get us some distance if possible. Colonel, stand to, the order is repel boarders. Weapons, do your best to keep them off. We are facing  _ suicidal fanatics. _ ”

“Marines standing by to repel boarders,” Fei’nur’s voice echoed. 

“Tac, watch those ones coming in close,” Will called as he looked at the tactical plot. They swooped in, and Daria only nailed two of them. The massive batteries of the  _ Huáscar  _ were still sufficient to send them straight to hell at point-blank range. 

The other two opened fire with  _ plasma cutters,  _ mining ship equipment for chopping up asteroids… Point-blank, but enormously powerful because of their limited range and recycling energy configuration, they tore at the  _ Huáscar _ ’s deranged shields as they de-accelerated only tens of meters from the hull. 

_ This is about to get far worse. _ “Evasive!”

“Helm, break to port!” Elia called as she shifted controls. Violeta instinctually followed her, because it seemed like Elia had a plan, even though that brought them even closer to the two ships, as the shields suddenly surged with over-power through the tertiary generators and the shields slammed into the active plasma cutters, driving a massive energy feedback into the systems of the two small attackers. As they did, there were two enormous explosions along the port aft quarter, shaking the  _ Huáscar  _ like a bone in the mouth of a dog as both of them detonated from the impact and energy feedback tearing their thin hulls to pieces.

“We were going to lose the shields no matter what, Captain, better to take them with the generators,” Elia justified herself simply. 

“Ops, stand by to transport,” Daria called out, her ears flexing as she hastily began arming sequences. “Captain, we can finish this before they board.” The starboard cannons finished another as the rest concentrated to port. “Stand by to transport torpedoes aboard.”  _ Just like against the Daleks…  _

“On it!” Elia answered. This was Crew Resource Management at its finest, as Violeta kept the ship shifting through her manoeuvres. They didn’t need orders to act. Zhen’var’s little Intent revolution was actually bearing fruit.

“Torpedoes armed. Mark!” Daria called out. 

Elia activated the transporters remotely and then watched the confirmation lights go green. “Fire in the hole!”

Daria pushed the remote detonation override. The attacking swarm vanished in bright white flashes of energy from within. Clouds of debris and plasma were overcome by the spreading light of reactors detonating and exploding and the spreading energy of the torpedoes. As it faded, only the two largest remaining ships were still extant, both of them with big gashes in their sides, tumbling and disabled without main power. 

The battle, as sharp as it had been, was abruptly over. 

“Local tactical picture?” Zhen’var’s hands clenched her armrests tightly. “If clear, stand down for damage control.”

“Two cripples, all other ships destroyed,” Elia confirmed. “No ships detected in local sensor range. Permission to lead one of the boarding parties, Captain? There are survivors on both hulks.” She reduced the ship to Condition Yellow -- damage control stations -- MC Zebra still set to permit isolation of damage. 

“Let the marines go first, but I can take one of the prize crews and Commander Saumarez the other,” Abebech offered from secondary control. 

“Permission is granted. Full protective measures, medical and tactical, Colonel. No-one  _ sane _ acts as they have.”

“Understood. One platoon against target should be sufficient to suppress even fanatical resistance,” Fei’nur answered back. “Full armour and rebreathers.” 

“The life-forms do read as human,” Elia noted cooly as she rose to report to Transporter 1 and handed Ops back over to Lieutenant Richards. 

“Then let us find out just who has attacked us…” Zhen’var would say, as Elia entered the lift.

  
  
  
  
  


Of all the things that Bikie might have expected on boarding the crippled enemy ship, the abrupt full-throated attack on his platoon took them all and doubled it. They held nothing back; they were hideously scarred, sore-covered monsters in a mixture of rags and armours, with skin dirtied and blackened, screaming hideous screams. And they attacked to capture. With a moment, his command squad was in a fight for its life. 

“SHOVEL, this is BIKIE, Platoon Hotel Company A, under heavy attack!” His gun screamed with pulse fire and he went silent for a moment. “They’re fanatics who keep attacking with incoherent screams even when half of them has been blown off!” 

“SHOVEL copies.” Fei’nur turned to her command team. “Send in the mines first, clear the TZs, full weapons release. Deploy heavy squads,  _ now _ .”

Autonomous mines were sent forward into the mass to detonate, giving time for each ship to be reinforced by a squad of marines in power armour. Their heavy weapons chopped through a mass which could not get purchase on them, though it was instantly a fight in melee conditions despite the initial clearing, so fast were they on them. 

Abebech’s voice came over the comms. “Shovel, this is Ray-ban. I believe Leather and I can be of material assistance to getting prisoners and intel in this circumstance.”

“If you wish to go into that, Commander, let me at least get them out of melee with my Marines!”

Down in the transporter room, Elia, listening to the conversation, grimaced. She was sure to some extent that Abebech was right, speaking from another transporter closer to secondary control (the ship was still buttoned down), but even in armour with a carbine and rebreather she questioned facing down these man-beasts. Still, she understood what Abebech meant. They could telepathically disable the enemy. 

“Your discretion, Colonel,” Abebech replied mildly.

“Stand by, you’ll have five seconds. Bikie, call for the Mha’dorn as soon as you have a TZ for them.”

“Rought. On it, Shovel.” He waved his hand forward. “Squad, move out! Provide covering fire for the parms!”

Using the power armoured squad as the frontal force, his command squad provided rifle fire at range around them, risky in the confined space but needed. The energy weapons scoured the hull but did not bunch through, and that was good, because the buckled plates were as thin and weak as hell, and they were using their bottles due to reduced oxygen as it was, beyond the risk of disease. 

Behind them, three more of his squads bunched up around their heavy weapons to keep the ground they’d already gained. 

Covering and fire in turn, the squad of Power Armour, split into two teams of four each, rolled down the two corridors. Occupying them shoulder to shoulder, they fired pulse cannon in fire boxes down the corridor, slaughtering their attackers and pinning them in place.

As they advanced, they used special shaped charges to open the bulkheads between them for intercommunication. The rifles behind them did precision shots whenever they had an opening. Discipline began to tell on lunatic fanaticism, even as again and again attackers flung themselves onto the close-combat nano filament blades of the power armour. When they reached the next set of cross-corridors, they halted. 

“All right, Shovel, this is Bikie. We’ve got the TZ open and clear. They can’t handle a disciplined power armour advance.” 

On the second ship, the effort was duplicated, even if the different configuration meant that a main internal lift was being used as the secure point; the rocket thrusters on the power armour suits letting them jump from floor to floor to secure it. Lieutenant Ke’ter confirmed her position ready a moment later, as well.

“Ray-Ban, Leather, teleporting in five, four, three, two, one,  _ mark _ .” Fei’nur’s voice was clipped and sharp as she tried to coordinate this unexpectedly difficult pair of boarding actions.

Both women, on hearing the plan and Fei’nur’s interpretation of it, had only been able to steel themselves and be ready for imminent combat. The Dilgar Battlemaster’s objective was overwhelming speed and total disorientation for their enemies. 

The moment the two went in, the wounded were beamed out, transferred directly to sickbay. Nah’dur had everything ready for them and went to work stabilising and evaluating immediately. 

Fei’nur would be following shortly, as soon as she could be in the fray without having to use her blades herself. “Keep pushing forward, Marines! Commanders, these are worse than Drazi!”

The reinforcement squads were simply overwhelming the enemy with raw numbers in small ships that were not heavily crewed--and had taken casualties--to begin with. It was also a truism that any force of barbarians could not stand against troops in regular order, and now with more than a full company deployed they had two hundred personnel on the ships. 

Communicating by omnitool, Abebech and Elia had agreed that main engineering on each ship was their principle objective, and they’d peeled off squads in that direction. It was obvious to both women that the main threat was of a detonation of the reactor, even though both ships had lost power and their fusion bottles weren’t actively  _ fusing.  _

The markings on the corridors of the ships, though in poor condition, were legible, a strange mix of English and Chinese that was still obvious enough to point them toward engineering spaces in ships that showed, as they moved through them, increasing scenes of horror. Human and animal bones were everywhere, piled into strange decorations, skulls hanging from ropes, pelts and human skins displayed as trophies and as simple piles of blankets for sleeping. 

Even the Dilgar found it to be…  _ disconcerting _ , and any hesitation the boarders felt was long since gone.

Everyone, that was, except for Abebech Imra. She coolly advanced at the head of the squad, several times shooting down their attackers with quick off-angle shots that showed how precise of a fighter and killer she was. She gazed through her sunglasses a few times at the vicious, barbaric artwork and then carried on. 

At main engineering on the ship she was boarding, the ship’s crew tried one more rush as the Alliance marines burned through the defending bulkhead doors. Breaching was always a dangerous activity, and Abebech ordered the Dilgar corporal back. “It’s quite all right. I’ll mind it,” she answered. The timer on the breaching charge reached zero and it exploded. The door collapsed inward, and Abebech turned, utterly unconcerned, just in time for the surge of attackers to reach her, stepping over their fallen comrades who had been knocked down by the falling blast door.

The squad stared as she picked one up by the neck with a whipcord motion of one of her gloved hands that was almost too fast to track. It screamed hideously and clawed at her, but Abebech continued to lift it, easily two feet off the ground, her black leather clad hand compressing like so much of a hydraulic vise until the struggling began to stop. Behind them, the others pressed in, just to halt abruptly. Vibrating in place, they dropped their knives and cudgels and began to fall, trying to resist with their muscles and unable, to their knees. Twelve of them. 

“Secure prisoners,” Abebech snapped. She cocked her arm back and then flung the struggling former human flying through the air over his telepathically disabled comrades to slam into the far bulkhead of the engineering spaces with a sickening crack. 

The Marines didn’t hesitate after hearing that tone of voice from Commander Imra, and they pushed in to truss up prisoners, hand and foot, and get muzzles on the same.

Abebech brushed off her gloves and then adjusted her sunglasses. “I’m going to the bridge.” 

“We’ll get you an escort, ma’am.” the Dilgar Marine NCO near her growled, marking off four armed figures. “Even if I’m not sure you need it, Commander.”

“That will do. Thank you.” A trace of a smile touched her lips. “My only concern is for Commander Saumarez and the other ship.”

  
  
  
  


At that moment, Elia was finding herself in the fight of her life. Pressing on to engineering on the first ship, she had found herself under full assault by a large group of the monstrous not-humans. She had been  _ trained  _ for this! Rigorously drilled to use her telepathic abilities in combat. 

She was strong enough that as a skilled telepath she could make real use of them too. Groups of the  _ Reavers  _ would rush her, seeking to take her, to rape her, to maim her, to kill her, to plunder all that she was and eat her. She would shut down their motor functions, and the Marines with her would exploit. Again, and again. Her pistol fired over and over--it was almost automatic--and she p’heard the scream of the open-shut door, for even these beasts had souls. 

But the sheer horror that she was experiencing was distracting her. These creatures contained the memories of a human, memories in which every kind of nightmare and atrocity had been inflicted upon the old and young alike, on captured soldiers and little children.  _ Nothing  _ was spared, except for the rude structure of order that their dominance fights imposed on their society. And yet, inside, they were still human beings. 

The problem with the fight, why it was a fight for her life, was the sickness she felt with each contact with their minds. Skin perpetually green and flushed clammy with cold sweat, she tried to keep from screwing up again, and again. And each time she had to enter their minds, to disable or outright in a few cases to destroy, while withdrawing in time, in the midst of the frenzy of fire, to keep from being in contact with the monstrosity of their souls as they died. The idea of doing a necroscan on one of these creatures revolted her more the longer she was in contact with them.

Around her, the Marines advanced to seize Engineering. She shifted to help take the bridge. The fighting began to die down. There was a blur of weapons fire, of Marines coming to give orders. “Yes, follow the Chinese symbols for sector eight there,” she’d tell one Dilgar, “and reinforce Zeta Platoon.” But the words barely wrote to her memory. Finally, Elia dropped to her knees and threw up on the deck below the bridge. The overwhelming feeling of sickness and horror pounded into her until the entire blurry parade of fighting seemed like a picture that someone had dumped black paint over. 

There was a confused sense of something happening, as a figure dropped to a knee beside her, a hand clapping firmly on her shoulder, a mental shout, met with an audible, hissed whisper. “ _ El’sau. El’sau! _ ”

El’sau, Elia, looked up and blinked widely. A steady, determined face looked back. A Dilgar face. “...Fei’nur?” 

The grizzled old Colonel leaned in close. “Are you  _ all right _ ? These monsters have to be hard on a Mha’dorn.” She was already fishing through a pack on her hip.

“They kill, maim, rape, eat everyone, from the old to the young, perhaps if you’re very lucky in that order,” Elia rasped. “Their victims call them Reavers and they call themselves the Fearless.” 

Fei’nur simply continued to take the hypospray out and pressed it into Elia’s neck, before putting a hand on her shoulder. It was a struggle for Fei’nur to feel compassion toward humans, but with El’sau it was easier than all the others, even Ka’var. 

The drug began to work immediately on her brain, and with a look of ready thanks, El’sau extended her gloved hand to Fei’nur. “Thank you. Gods, thank you.”

Fei’nur took it, and squeezed. “I doubt you want the flask right now. Afterwards, at least. As soon as you’re ready to go, El’sau. These  _ monsters _ have to be put down, if we won’t get anything from it, I’m not going to worry about taking any.”

“I already must have helped take at least thirty prisoners. We scarcely need more. They’re on the bridge? The rest of the ship is clear?” 

A quick check of Fei’nur’s tactical display led to El’sau getting a nod of affirmation in response.

“Well, if we’ve got them isolated, I suggest we do one better. We do take prisoners. The easy way, Colonel.” She activated her omnitool. “Leftenant Richards, this is Leather.” 

“Ma’am?” 

“Beam every single life sign on the top deck of the ship directly into active cells in the brig.” There was a particularly savage look on Elia’s face. “The only thing I hate more than keeping them alive right now is the idea of  _ playing fair  _ with them, Colonel. They’re all in one place, no need for target differentiation.”

“Do it. And alert Medical. This is  _ not normal _ . Full isolation protocols in the brig, Lieutenant.” Fei’nur added.

“Full isolation protocols in the brig,” Richards confirmed. Rumours were already spreading like wildfire and concern was in her voice. 

“Don’t worry, Leftenant, we’re quite all right,” Elia assured her.

“Understood. Transports complete, Commander.” 

Elia nodded. “Go ahead and breach the bridge entrance at your leisure, Ma’am,” she said to Fei’nur. Her omnitool crackled with noise. “Rayban to White, we have our prize.”

Elia tapped off her omnitool as Fei’nur had returned from giving the order to her breaching team. “Colonel… I don’t think Commander Imra was fazed in the slightest. She sounds as calm as a peach. And she’s a stronger telepath than I am.” Elia was quietly shaking her head. 

“Long experience, I think. I’ll let you know when I have the bridge, Commander.” Standing, Fei’nur stalked ahead, to lead her Marines through the last bulkhead.

  
  
  
  


Somewhat more than three hours later, the senior officers had gathered in Conference Suite 1. Daria had the conn for the meeting. Elia was sitting quietly at the table, pouring cream over a scone and drinking her tea. She had an intensely blank expression on her face. Across from her, Abebech was quietly sipping a demitasse of coffee. The two women didn’t look at each other, but they didn’t seem tense, either. 

Nah’dur paced by the holo-projector like a nervous bundle of energy. She barely stopped when Zhen’var and Will arrived, but she did stop completely when Fei’nur arrived. Still wearing her medical coat, she looked like so much of a professor. 

“Good afternoon, everyone. Can anyone provide some more information on just  _ what _ or  _ whom _ we have encountered, please?”

Just as Nah’dur was about to start, the doors opened again. Commander Poniatowska came in with Chief Dugan following her. She was in her engineering overhauls, streaked with grease, and so was he. The only way to tell the officer apart from the Chief was that she had taken the time to toss her Engineer’s vest on; they both had coffee. “Sorry for being late, Captain. I was responsible for detaining Chief Dugan. We had to finish jacking one of the shield generators off the shock mountings and replacing them. It took a bit longer than I expected when I said it could make it. Full shield power has now been restored.”

“Excellent, I am glad to hear it. Be seated, please. I am hoping to get some more information on just who or what has attacked us.”

Nah’dur began to raise her hand, but Elia spoke first, and Nah’dur paused and slowly lowered her hand. “Captain,” Elia said, “They’re called Reavers. They terrorise the planetary systems of ‘The Verse’ with rape, plunder, cannibalism and murder.”

“They thought we were a new kind of Government battleship coming to intrude upon their territory. They suffered grievous losses some months ago in a hard-fought engagement with a large Government fleet which they almost defeated, when beforehand they had been ignored by the Government, which is strong in the inner systems, as they terrorised the outer systems,” Abebech added after a moment of uneasy silence. “After the destruction of this group, there are very few left. When the Government won its doubtful contest, it made sure none escaped.”

“So there  _ is _ some central government, with very weak control over the outer systems, and these are… cannibal… pirate monsters.” She slowly blinked. “There being very few is a clearly good thing, then.”

“Ahh, but Captain,” Nah’dur addressed Zhen’var directly, “They’re not  _ natural  _ cannibal-pirate-monsters. The moment one of them arrived I had it transported to sickbay in one of my isolation chambers and got to work. I already have an answer.” 

“ _ Do… _ go on, Surgeon-Commander.”

“Their brains were exposed to a hydrochlorate chemical of a unique composition I haven’t seen before,” Nah’dur said, bringing up a set of chemical charts on the holoprojector and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “As it happens, this is a very complicated chemical which, when crossing the blood-brain barrier, destroys most of the brain pathways that are triggered by chemical release from the adrenal glands. In short, it should in principle make most humans cease to function and die within a period of days or weeks. All well and good!”

“However, the individuals in question--once I saw what had happened to the first I took samples from the others, which we’re keeping sedated by direct neural-electrical inhibition, since nothing else will work--are all sociopathic, or at least have the genes for it. Those neural pathways were unaffected and in fact the chemical remains permanently concentrated in those areas of the brain, serving as a sort of saline distribution channel for adrenaline. In short, it’s like all normal emotional impulses are destroyed  _ and  _ the subject is receiving injections of continuous synthetic adrenaline into the centres of the brain primarily responsible, with their genes, for narcissism and dehumanisation of other sapients. Really, the only curious thing is why someone went around exposing a large population to exotic hydrochlorates for no good reason. Or for completely daft reasons, anyway. I can’t think of any good ones.”

“By how they act, Surgeon-Commander, they are likely amongst the first victims, and whomever ordered it would likely prefer that it never be known.

“Some of them are turned by the others by absolutely hideous tortures I don’t want to repeat,” Elia interjected. “How does that fit?” 

“Probably by ritualised cannibalism,” Nah’dur answered promptly. “There are many cultures which engage in ritualised cannibalism of their own dead, if they chose someone to become one of them--perhaps they can smell humans who have sociopathic tendencies, pheremonally--then they could begin the conversion process, and end it with an initiation ritual, for instance, which requires eating the brains of their own fallen. Their society certainly results in a high turnover rate, no need to murder their own, the wastage from, well, reaving, would be quite enough! But it’s certainly not contagious in the conventional sense.”

Elia looked nauseated. “She’s not wrong, Captain. In fact, I think she’s right. I saw far too much of them, inside of them.”

“I saw as well,” Abebech confirmed simply.

“I… see. This system is…  _ horrifying _ . Will, I am  _ very glad _ this does not appear to be some mirror of your people.”

“Well, what is this Government?” Will was frowning. “I mean, we don’t have any history of such a thing in Cyrannus. In my Cyrannus. But what is this government? We have evidence of the use of descendants of English and Chinese?”

“Correct, Commander,” Elia agreed. “I’m not sure. Some of the …  _ converted  _ … Reavers might, though.”

“OH! Speaking of which,” Nah’dur leaned forward on the table. “I actually think we can stabilise them. I mean, they do communicate, and have enough of a hierarchy to control starships. They’re still sapient. A Mha’dorn should be able to reprogram their personality to make them respond to adrenal signalling differently, perhaps as panic for instance, and then we can control the panic with normal anti-anxiety medication. We might actually be able to make one of them into a communicating being again, and then interrogate it. I’d like to try it, Captain.”

A few of Zhen’var’s officers were given each other looks ranging from confused to mildly concerned across the table at that point. Arterus in particular looked rather baleful. Elia’s lips were firmly pursed, though. 

“That Mha’dorn  _ must _ volunteer with  _ full knowledge of the risk _ , and I want you to assemble an ad-hoc REC to review before proceeding, Surgeon-Commander. You are flirting with things on the edge… Commander, you have something to offer?”

“Well, actually, as uncomfortable as it makes me, I think she’s right. I could p’hear their deaths just like anyone else’s, I could p’hear the screams of their minds and see them go …  _ beyond,  _ just like a healthy, normal person,” Elia explained. “Commander Imra?” Elia looked across the table for support. She had never gotten it before, and many people at the table were a little uncomfortable at the description of the lived telepathic experience. 

Abebech leaned in and set her cup down. She’d changed to a pair of long white gloves. “Commander Saumarez is correct,” she said, surprising Elia most of all as she continued. “Their minds are those of the living, the essence of their reality is much the same. The Surgeon-Commander’s proposal is, quite frankly, the first time anyone has proposed a cure, in the minds of those I have seen. Even if her youth means she presents it in a way that comes off awkwardly, the intention can only be described as good. I am not really sure it is worth living after you have done such things, even when you cannot help it; but unless the Surgeon-Commander is allowed to try, we might as well shoot them all, for their own sakes. They are living beings, and they deserve more compassion than Nazis, for their crimes were committed under profound mental impairment.”

“Have our Mental Hygienist on stand-by, then. If the REC comes back positive, which I think it will, you may proceed, Surgeon-Commander. That was good, original thinking.”

“Thank you, Captain! I’ll be right about it!” 

Lar’shan leaned in from his seat at the table. “Captain. The government that did this… Organization, agency, terrorist group, whatever we have. We’re going to find them, aren’t we?”

“That is the goal, Wing Commander. We are our own little island of the Alliance here, and  _ Divine _ , but anyone who  _ ignored _ this, much less  _ condoned _ or  _ caused _ it?” Disdain coloured her voice as Zhen’var spoke, eyes flashing with restrained anger.

“ _ So Say We All!” _ Will declared, standing up. One by one, and then in unison, the others rose, and repeated it. “ _ So Say We All! _ ” After months of gelling together, all alone in the night, the  _ Huáscar _ ’s officers spoke with one voice. 

And then the bridge comm trilled. “Captain, this is Lieutenant Seldayiv,” Daria’s voice came over the comm, crisp but urgent. “There’s a ship heading for us, a small, fast merchant type, on a course at a transect to those of the attackers.”

  
“Move to intercept. I want answers from someone who has  _ not _ been turned into a mad, psychopathic cannibal.”


	4. Act 3

**Act 3**

As they departed the Conference Suite to head to their stations, Elia hung back with Abebech for a moment. “Thank you, Commander. I know it was hard for you as well and I know that you normally don’t talk about such things. But it meant a lot for you to confirm and support me on this issue. It must have been very hard for you. Or perhaps it would have, once upon a time, at least. I know you have seen much.”

“Thank you, Commander Saumarez. That is correct. There was a time when this would have badly disturbed me. I hope, in the main, there was a time when this would have badly disturbed anyone. However, I am fine right now, and the only wisdom I can offer is that by remaining utterly focused on your _moral objectives,_ the principles which drive you to endure these sights, you will, in time, handle these matters more calmly.”

“That’s why you’re as scary as hell to a lot of people, Commander,” Elia smiled wryly. “Most people think that…”

“The characteristic of a fanatic, I know.” Abebech actually smiled back. “The difference is that I still have a sense of humour and make--or at least keep--friends across the aisle. But the objective remains the same. Commander, you’re a brave and capable woman. The memories of others are an ultimate form of dwelling in the past. The future is clean and pure, unwritten for anyone. Dwell in the future, and the memories of the past will fall off your mind like water off a duck’s back. They can’t hold purchase over someone who is optimistic about the future. It is an attitude which takes a virtual lifetime to develop…”

< _But you have it, Abebech, so you’re clearly rather old. > _

Abebech grinned before she turned away to head to the _Heermann._ This time, she actually answered. < _A bit older than the norm, you’re quite right. But I promise I wouldn’t be offering advice you couldn’t use. > _

< _Well, I’ll try to take it, but it may require a grace greater than any I’ve had before. I also never expected you to join in a ship’s cheer. > _

_< Oh, come now. These things matter to people. Unity of strength and purpose make for a better crew and officer corps, and my privacy does not prevent my heart from stirring with my comrades.>_

With a dry wave, she left, but for a change, Elia felt much better about it.

Abebech, as silent and reserved as ever, got in the ‘lift and called up the _Heermann_ dock. As it traveled, she pulled a builder’s plate out of her pocket that she had taken from the captured ship, and looked long and hard at it, cupped in her gloved hands.

_Weyland-Yutani Corporation._

_“We Build Better Worlds.”_

_Heavy Shipbuilding Division_

_Union of Allied Planets Navy_

_Enforcement Cruiser Ioannis_

_Laid at Londinium Geostationary Dockyards_

_Oct 14 2510._

Gripping it tightly, she put it back in her breast-pocket as she left the turbolift.

  
  


The _Huáscar_ hadn’t suffered appreciable damage. The nature of the battle had been such that only light autocannon fire had hit the hull, and the armour had easily rejected all of it. The only internal damage had been from shock, and the repairs to those systems had been completed, with the re-mounting of the shield generators having been the most aggressive effort by Commander Poniatowska. Despite the seriousness of the attack, they had suffered only eleven wounded. The nineteen wounded during the boarding operations were also mostly minor; armour helped.

The great ship came about to intercept the new contact with alacrity. Redlight muted the environment of the bridge, and everyone was at stations. They were taking no chances now… They would have to make an impulse burn for twelve hours to escape the warp interference area. Doctrinally that left them hideously vulnerable to attack even as the great shining hull suggested a power and energy which nothing they had encountered in the system so far could match.

“Comms, Hail them.”

Tor’jar was at his station and sent the signal. “ _Unidentified vessel, this is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. We wish to make peaceful contact._ ”

“They’re turning away and increasing speed,” Elia reported with almost a sigh.

“Pursue. Get them to pay attention to us,” Zhen’var directed.

Violeta brought the _Huáscar_ up to full power and watched a kilometre of durasteel steadily build her speed onto her speed. The massive vessel she controlled was something like an armoured cruiser of the early 20th century, capable of fighting in the battle-line, conducting independent operations, and transporting a division of troops. Never had one of the class been this utterly alone before, a month from resupply or reinforcement, and this sorely tested by a situation that defied understanding. But when Violeta brought the drives to power, the ship’s staggering ability reinforced her status as the biggest, most dangerous thing around. Within seconds they had leapt from a distant image to a looming giant to the crew of the unidentified ship.

“This is the Allied Systems Cruiser _Huáscar,_ please identify yourselves. We wish to make contact.”

“Alliance ship,” a man’s voice finally came back on an open comm channel, “are you detaining us or not? If not, we’d like to be left alone.”

Zhen’var barely stopped from putting a palm to her forehead. _Of course, the names of the central government here and our own government are so similar the Captain thinks we are a Government ship. And he is an outer systems man this far out, who isn’t particularly interested in the government. Maybe even opposed to it._ She activated her own interface to the line. “Commander unidentified vessel, this is Captain Zhen’var. The _Huáscar_ serves a foreign government to your system.”

“Captain Zhen’var,” the voice came back, “Don’t play games with me. There is nothing beyond the ‘Verse.”

“Captain, that’s emphatically not true. You _came_ from Earth.”

“Earth-that-was. It’s dead, just like the name says.”

“The reports of Earth’s demise have been exagerrated,” _to put it mildly, but I need to get them to sit down and talk before revealing everything!_ She muted the channel. “Leftenant, pull us ahead of them at point-blank.”

“Captain,” Violeta acknowledged and brought the _Huáscar_ ’s drives to power again. She grew nearer and nearer to the tiny independent merchant. The vessel repeatedly tried to evade, but Violeta stayed on her tail and then overhauled her, keeping formation with her evasive manoeuvres and looming massively over the cockpit windows of the small transport, casting her entirely within the shadow of the kilometre-long star cruiser.

“Commander unidentified vessel, does this look like a ship of your central government?”

“No, but I reckon if they could build it, they would. It doesn’t matter, though. I would say I am in a position where I have to listen to whatever you want to say, Captain Zhen’var, so go ahead and say it.”

“We will bring your ship aboard and meet. There is much to discuss between your humanity and the Allied Systems, Captain… May I have your name?”

There was a long and pained hesitation, but the _Huáscar_ had his ship dead by rights, and if they wanted him, they’d have him. “Reynolds. Malcolm Reynolds.”

  
  


The ship, it turned out, had a crew of five aboard, three women and two men--and one of the women was carrying a newborn baby with her. The leading man, rather obviously Captain Malcolm Reynolds, looked exhausted, and his crew stressed and pushed to the limit. They also gazed at her with the obvious suspicion of people not in isolation suits confronted with someone who was.

All of that changed when Nah’dur completed her medical scanning and pulled her helmet off, shaking out her shoulder-length bob of red hair, the honour guard drawn up in full pressure suits. “There’s nothing air or aerosol transmissible of consequence, the bay air will be switched to general circulation,” she ordered via her omnitool, and then addressed the five. “I am Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, welcome to the _Huáscar_ on the behalf of Captain Zhen’var.”

Mal’s shock was evident on his face. Then a rather accusatory look fell across his chiseled features. “You told me you were from Earth-that-was!”

“...Maybe cat people took it over after humans died out there?” One of the shorter women in the crew, in simple spacer’s overhauls, was staying wide eyed as she blurted it out.

“Oh, neither. We said we knew that people had survived on Earth--which is true, there is a small remnant population. We _also_ have humans aboard -- from several places. But half the crew is my species, the Dilgar.”

A dark-haired woman who looked a bit like mother-Ka at a younger age, the same ethnicity anyway, took a hesitant step forward, understandable because of the child held in her arms. “And the Captain is as well?”

“You’re very observant with our names. Yes, she is,” Nah’dur answered matter-of-factly. “Please, this way, we have a conference suite.” She watched the second man stay close between the two shorter women, his eyes tracking everything, wide and thoughtful. Nah’dur knew another intellectual when she saw one. “Sir…?”

“Oh. Doctor Tam, Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur,” he answered, and hesitated to put out his hand.

She reached forward and took it anyway. “A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Tam. We actually have much to discuss. Well, if you’re a medical doctor, that is. Other people will be interested if you’re a Doctor of Laws, and I suppose someone will even want to talk if you’re a Doctor of Art History, though I don’t know who off the top of my head.”

“Oh, no, I’m a medical Doctor. It sounds you’re the equivalent?”

“Yes, though Surgeon-Commander is not exactly the same. But I do also have a doctorate in Genetics.”

“All right, all right,” Mal held up his hands. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, _Surgeon-Commander,_ and it’s not about genetics.”

“As you say, Captain, but most of your questions will be answered momentarily.” With something of a sigh, she led them into the conference suite.

  
  


The presence of four Dilgar, one Dorei, and four humans in the conference suite left little doubt. It would be absurd to imagine the Alliance intentionally faking this; they had no reason to. And the power of the ship was testament enough to it as well.

Will started the explanations for the crew of the ship they had already learned was named the _Serenity,_ with a heavy use of holo-slides, because he hadn’t had the time to do anything better than steal the standard Public Affairs template.

But as he spoke, with the others entranced, River Tam was staring across the table at Abebech and Elia. It didn’t take long for the two of them to be totally focused on her.

< _Why can’t I feel her mind at all? > _River was musing out loud, and both of them and then Hygienist Va’tor could feel it as well, the Dilgar woman also turning her attention to River.

< _She doesn’t want anyone to, > _Elia answered automatically.

< _That doesn’t stop me other ti-- > _River cut off abruptly and looked sharply at Elia. < _You just talked back. > _

_< I’m a telepath, and so are you,> _Elia answered.

“They’re like me!” River suddenly exclaimed about as loud as she could in the meeting, looking with eagerness and surprise over to her brother. “They’re _like me_!”

Will stopped talking. Simon looked at River. “River…”

“I would assume that by logical induction, your sister is a telepath?” Nah’dur, holding a cup of stimulant meat broth looked to Simon. That so matter-of-factly completely derailed what he was about to say.

Simon’s expression froze. He stuttered.

< _He’s an awesome brother but it gets ridiculous sometimes, > _River said matter-of-factly to Elia and Abebech and Va’tor. < _So, who are you? I think we’re very alike? > _She looked very hard at Abebech. Elia caught that it meant something more than telepathy.

< _A private person, > _Abebech answered. < _And you have been cruelly ill-used, River Tam. > _

Her eyes flared, and her lips pursed, and River looked for a moment almost like she wanted to cry. Elia reached out. < _Abebech’s got her own way, River. I’m Elia, and I was raised in an entire society of other telepaths. We’ve got people here who can help you. > _

_< We need to understand what the Alliance is doing,> _River answered. < _I was going to have Simon put me in an induced coma to recover my memories I can’t access. But I think you can help me. > _

The third of the minds at that table following the conversation p’spoke smoothly, with the alien tones of her mind. < _I certainly could, > _Va’tor offered simply.

“So, telepathy is a normal, established ability in the wider multiverse?” Simon finally recovered.

“Emphatically so. In my universe Espers have a history of thousands of years, in Commander Saumarez’s, hundreds; telepaths have manifested in others, too, like that of Leftenant de Más,” Abebech answered for the others, leaning back. “Doctor Tam, we are considerably advanced in knowledge of self-control and discipline of the mind in telepaths, and psychosurgery techniques and cybernetic enhancements which could be of material benefit to your sister.”

Simon looked to River, who smiled faintly. “Abebech is really standoffish, but Elia is nice, and Va’tor sounds like she knows what she’s doing. I don’t think either of them is lying. They can help us without putting me in a coma, too.”

“As a matter of fact, other than a lack of training and what I suspect is physical damage to the structure of the mind, I don’t think she has any mental health issues,” the Dilgar Mental Hygienist explained matter-of-factly. “Doctor Tam, we can be of great, material assistance.”

“We’ll need a brain scan to figure out the exact treatment plan,” Nah’dur interjected, “but there shouldn’t be any true issues. What’s this about putting her in a coma, though?”

“She has memories of her time in Alliance captivity, they experimented on her,” Simon explained, “and there’s information we need. In an induced coma, it can be recovered with the technology that we have, but she can’t consciously access it herself right now.”

“There’s no need at all for that, Doctor Tam,” Nah’dur answered matter-of-factly. “Hygienist Va’tor can handle accessing blocked memories straightforwardly, indeed, it’s quite likely Commander Imra or Commander Saumarez could as well. Here, we’ve covered the particulars of the Multiverse, so let’s all decamp to sickbay and while your sister is treated we can talk about this damned ridiculous exotic hydrochlorate I found in your star system.”

The entire table slammed to a screeching halt again, metaphorically. “You found Pax?” Simon stared. “So you’ve already encountered the remaining Reavers?”

“They found Pax? Well then they know what the Alliance is up to,” Mal countered. “...Do you know what the Alliance is up to?” He asked Zhen’var a moment later.

“We fought the Reavers. We have sixty of them as prisoners aboard and we secured two of their vessels as prizes,” Zhen’var answered. “And Pax… Peace.”

“The original function of the hydrochlorate!” Nah’dur exclaimed. “Oh brilliant, these people were _idiots_!”

“You have _Reaver prisoners_ on your ship?” Kaylee looked aghast, horrified, and a bit terrified.

“We have stun weapons,” Elia explained laconically.

“ _Still._ They’re as dangerous as all hell, Captain, and if you know a thing or two good for your crew, space ‘em right now,” Mal almost shouted, getting half out of his chair. “They’re the result of a failed experiment by the Alliance to create a truly peaceful utopia. You can see the consequences.”

“A totalitarian’s utopia, I take it,” Abebech remarked. “Captain, it appears we have our suspect.”

“Do you have any proof, Captain Reynolds?”

“Proof?” Mal laughed. “Yeah, I got proof. You better believe I got proof--and I already beamed it to the entire ‘Verse. That’s how our current troubles started…”

Zhen’var’s eyes got a peculiar glint. “Do tell, Captain. Maybe I can help.”

“Right, but first, I’ve got a problem you can help me with.” He gestured to the infant. “Little Emma’s mother was taken prisoner by the Alliance in her hospital bed. And I want to get her back.”

  
  


A few hours later, the _Huáscar_ ’s senior officers had assembled in Conference Suite 1, back close to the bridge. Zhen’var’s expression was particularly grim. Will was sombre. Abebech looked coldly reserved, and Commander Goodenough exchanged a look with Lieutenant Ca’elia as they both arrived from the _Heermann,_ the ship having finally stood down to Condition Yellow, Modified Zebra again.

“Comrades,” Will began. “The Union of Allied Planets.” The holo-projector stabilized on the vast expanse of five true stars and six Solformed Brown Dwarfs. “Seventy habitable planets, all but two of them terraformed without prior ecosystems. A single system with as much habitable groundside as the Earth Alliance--with terraforming companies almost as good as those in the Aururian Imperial Federation and an ability to cause solar ignition of Brown Dwarfs which has never before been documented.”

“ _Ancestors,_ ” Fera’xero looked perturbed. “That is technology far beyond us.”

“And yet they use primitive sublight drive systems,” Will answered. “They are also a form of totalitarian democracy, a regime which has nominally free elections in the central planets, but rules the colonies with an iron fist, and actively represses its people through a sophisticated propaganda structure and corporate/deep-state control of the outcome of results.”

“In short, just like the Earth Alliance back home,” Zhen’var added dryly. “It is the next part which presents justification for a posture of direct hostility. Commander?”

“Quite.” Will wiped his sandy blonde hair off his forehead. “Seven months ago, during the ‘Battle of the Universe Moon’, a major pirate broadcasting centre transmitted detailed, authenticated documentary evidence of what happened at the remote planet Miranda, at one of the outer Brown Dwarfs. The population of the planet was used as a human experiment for exposure to the Pax chemical, which was supposed to eliminate aggression from humans.”

“We are the priests of the Temples of Syrinx; all the gifts of life are held within our walls,” Chief Dugan muttered down at the end of the table.

Abebech pointed and smiled grimly. “Exactly, Chief. The ruling clique in the Alliance regards the Solar Federation of Syrinx from the inestimable _Rush_ song as something of a desirable end state for human civilisation, and is willing to commit crimes equal to those of the Nazis to achieve it.”

“Fucking abominations,” Violeta hissed, trembling. She was _angry. Why the hell is the rest of the multiverse so screwed up?_

“Calm, comrades, calm,” Will spoke smoothly, leaning down to brace his hands on the table. “Let it burn, let it burn nice and hard. This story isn’t over, but when we understand all of it, we’ll know what to do.”

“Exactly, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Zhen’var affirmed. “They also experimented on, and are currently experimenting on, telepaths. We have a young lady aboard our ship right now, that’s where Commander Saumarez and Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur are presently, operating with Hygienist-Commander Va’tor to restore function to her, because an experimental program to induce telepathic abilities involved, among other things, the severing of all connections between her amygdala and prefrontal cortex.”

“That’s why all the indigenous peoples survived on Earth, isn’t it, Captain?” Stasia abruptly interjected. “Because they were _abandoned_ by the forefathers of these bastards?”

“Possibly so, though we don’t have evidence of that yet, Chief Héen,” Zhen’var answered sympathetically. “But let us continue. We know they have an experimental program to conduct tests like that--proving telepathy by intentionally damaging the brains of children and then observing how telepathic abilities bridge the damage to allow a modicum of continued functioning. We also know those tests are ongoing, in addition to the massive chemical experimentation on entire colonies. The Reavers resulted from the later; the Pax drug worked on 99.9% of the humans on the planet, the other 0.1% became Reavers and have brutalised the outer colonies ever since. There was a rebellion against this government by the outer colonies--unsurprisingly--but it was crushed seven years ago. There have been signs of a renewed incipient rebellion since the Universe broadcast, as one might expect if there were anyone sane or brave here.”

“And the crew of the _Serenity,_ which includes some former rebels from the last insurrection,” Will added, “were the ones responsible for saving River Tam from human experimentation and getting the evidence of the Miranda experiment out to the entirety of the so-called ‘Verse’, this expanded system. They’re with us now, except that one of their crew-members who experienced complications giving birth has been seized by the Alliance on a nearby medical station that serves an asteroid mining community while receiving medical treatment.”

“Captain Reynolds’ price for cooperating with us is simple,” Zhen’var smiled, and it was very catlike. “Since his First Mate is incapacitated, he requested asylum on her behalf, and I have sufficient evidence to declare that the seizure of any individual for detention by the Alliance represents a sufficiently serious risk of human rights violations to allow us to act. We’ll be going in to recover Ms. Washburne. Fei’nur!”

“Captain, Ma’am!”

“Prepare your troops for station assault!” The smile was still on Zhen’var’s face as she folded her hands together. “We will call the ship to stations when the medical procedure for Ms. Tam has been completed, so as not to distract what may be a delicate operation.”

“Ma’am!”

Stasia leaned across the table as they broke to that militant note, and made a savage grin to Violeta. “ _Attention all planets of the Solar Federation, we have assumed control…!_ ”

Chief Dugan started laughing. “Hell yeah.”

“Not quite so fast,” Zhen’var interrupted as she rose, and before the others had left. “While we are launching this operation immediately to gain the trust of our allies, we will withdraw immediately after it. We still have no good answer about the subspace jamming field, and I want it disabled before committing to general action. As soon as this action is completed, we will resume our original course, and rendezvous with our prizes which are still burning for it, albeit considerably more slowly.”

“What are we going to do with those floating charnel houses, anyway?” Will asked, as they finally headed out together.

“Oh, they’re clearly of no use to us. These Browncoats, on the other hand, certainly can’t afford to be picky. I suppose we’ll just have to leave them abandoned in space.” She folded her hands behind her back as they walked. “As for the Reavers, the REC came back favourable, so we’ll let Nah’dur try her best. I think Fei’nur’s brig practices and the sedatives are perfectly adequate for now, the sincerity of Captain Reynolds’ advice notwithstanding.”

“A risk, but a calculated one.”

“We’re in the business of calculated risks, Commander.”

  
  


In sickbay, Nah’dur had gone in first. Once she had reliable imaging of what had happened to River Tam’s brain, she had gotten very quiet for a moment, and then matter-of-factly reported the details and the inevitable conclusion to the Captain. Then she had gone to work. Nah’dur’s ability to come up with a surgical plan in the space of a few minutes as good as if she had spent several days preparing for the patient let her perform on a rush basis surgeries as complex as most surgeons would undertake on patients with substantial planning.

The plan for how much functionality Nah’dur expected to recover for River was carefully coordinated with Va’tor, and she explained at the correct level--the moment she had ascertained the sophistication of Simon’s medical training--the details of what she was going to do. The positronic implants she used were carefully and precisely grafted along the lines of most intact tissue, using micro-transporter surgery.

Once that was done and the appropriate drugs to avoid brain inflammation were administered, Va’tor and Elia went in gestalted together. They worked on separate tasks, but with a unified awareness to avoid damage to the psyche. Va’tor’s objective was to integrate the new circuitry and assist the recovery of full function by pre-priming the brain to use it, while directing backup pathways around the direct connections that would augment the less effective cybernetics and guarantee a full recovery.

Elia, since that fell within her training, focused on the removal of the memory blocks from River and the reintegration of the memories of her time being experimented upon, as she had requested. The experience left her amazed at how highly functional River actually was; through a combination of telepathy--which wasn’t insubstantial, she was a P-8 or maybe even a weak P-9--and natural resilience, she had integrated horrifying memories, including interfacing with the Reavers as she engaged in something very much like Centauri precog to fight them, which indicated her telepathy was tantalisingly broader than that of the human baseline for her own universe. The girl was a natural genius, maybe on the same level as the famous Jarod of the _Aurora_ \--an actual Pretender--and the combination was amazing, spectacular. Elia felt joy at having her in her little community. And River Tam badly needed a community.

Outside in the waiting area next to Nah’dur’s office, the Dilgar Surgeon-Commander returned in uniform and a lab coat, carrying a massive bucket for the crew of the _Serenity._ “Chicken,” she announced. “Salt and Pepper Chicken, in fact. I assume it still exists here.”

“Xièxiè,” Kaylee responded automatically, and reached for some the moment the bucket hit the table. “I was really famished, Doctor…”

“Surgeon-Commander,” Nah’dur corrected automatically, but felt bad at the woman’s blush. “At any rate, I had assumed so. Dilgar are preferential, but not obligate, carnivores and I have been browsing my way through human food using the replicator.”

“Matter reorganisation into food.” Inara was thought. “It seems like magic.”

“I have heard that several times, but it is science, if absurdly profligate of energy,” Nah’dur replied.

“Well, then, we’re glad for the treat. Of course, we’re all worried about River, Simon most of all,” Mal nodded his way.

“Oh, I think I’m doin’ some of the worryin’ for him,” Kaylee insisted, and got a faint smile from her beau.

“Well, Va’tor is one of our best mental hygienists..”

“That name sounds rotten,” Mal countered. “Wasn’t exactly the best part of this, even if she seemed decent.”

“Well, sometimes things are lost in the translation from alien to human languages, Captain, and I do admit, the Dilgar Imperium was a totalitarian state for quite a long time. It was my mother who reformed our survivors--on the outer colony of Rohric. We are like your own Independent Planets types, those who valued independence enough to live on a world where spores would make you cough up your lungs on a regular basis. There are other Dilgar, refugees from Omelos, in the Union these days, but it is very much the spirit of Rohric which infuses our culture and government.”

“You lost your homeworld as we lost earth?” Inara asked.

“Yes, though rather more comprehensively, as it turns out,” Nah’dur replied, munching on chicken, and occasionally glancing at Inara.

Mal noticed that and started frowning, but Simon spoke first with a question. “Surgeon-Commander? I’ve been thinking about a rather significant issue since I’ve had access to your databanks.”

“Go ahead and ask, Doctor.”

“Your records suggest Earth-that-was was destroyed about thirty-five hundred years ago by runaway climate change. But according to our own records it was only four hundred years ago, at most.”

“I assumed it was due to the fact that you stopped counting time while you were all in suspended animation,” Nah’dur replied.

“We were supposedly still so close to Earth-that-Was that suspended animation wasn’t required,” Simon answered, feeling uncomfortable.

“...Interesting. You’re eighteen hundred lightyears from Earth. Did you know that Commander Atreiad _also_ comes from a version of this system? It’s called Cyrannus there, and his people are also humans who have a deeply flawed and incorrect history of how they came to be there, forgetting that Earth was even their homeworld. But it’s much more minimalist than you system; twelve primary inhabited planets with four stars. Now, six of your stars are artificial, but the fifth of the natural ones shouldn’t be in this system. Someone moved it.”

“All well and good, but what about River, Doctor?” Mal interjected.

Simon turned away, deep in thought.

“I can’t speed it up, and to be honest, I should just stay out of the way. Psychosurgery is not my speciality. There’s lots of other things to attend to, anyway.” She glanced to Inara again.

“And why do you keep _lookin_ at the Lady?”

Nah’dur rose. “Oh, that. Miss Serra, could you accompany me, please? I would like to speak privately.”

Inara smoothed down her clothes--she had ditched her dresses for spacer’s gear in the circumstances of their shared exile, but she had an inner dignity about it all--and rose. “Of course, Surgeon-Commander.” There was a hesitancy in her step, and Mal was frowning, but she carried on and followed Nah’dur into another part of sickbay.

Mal shook his head as he watched them go. “Do you get the feelin’ that Doctor is too smart for her own good?”

“I haven’t woken up from the part where she’s a catwoman,” Kaylee answered.

  
  
  


“My sniffers detected the very high end drug you brought onto the ship,” Nah’dur said matter-of-factly to Inara as she entered the consulting room, activating one of the screens and authenticating through to load a chemical sequence file. She turned to Inara. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, I wouldn’t, Surgeon-Commander,” Inara answered coolly. “I don’t think I’ll get the choice, though, and choices have become an increasing problem for me of late. The ones I make have left me with fewer and fewer others. Once I was a Companion, and now, at long last, I am a rebel, though I did not ever think I would call myself that.”

“Sometimes, in the end, all you can do is die with honour,” Nah’dur answered levelly. “I am not unfamiliar with the concept of brilliance caged by circumstance, though I wouldn’t consider it to apply to me in the slightest.”

“It certainly doesn’t. You have a brusque bedside manner, you know,” Inara smiled more gently. “I know where this is going…”

“Do you? The fact that the drug in question is normally used to treat Kylarn-Syraxi, a sexually transmitted disease in S0T5?”

“That’s what it is,” Inara agreed. “The drug prolongs life, and allows me…”

“To keep your profession,” Nah’dur nodded simply. “It is the foolish, uncaring, unknowing infected clients who pose the risk, yes, I understand how this goes, though among my own people prostitution was banned as being contrary to the dignity of our race. With other species, it was attended with the death penalty. We were once great believers in blood purity like that, I can see that at least your government is a little more sensible.”

“Enough about that, Surgeon-Commander. I would not expect you to have the customs or laws, such is the way of living. The disease. Why does it have the same name in two universes, I wonder?” Inara pressed.

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Nah’dur answered, shaking her head. “But it’s most assuredly not native to Old Earth, so it shouldn’t be shared at all. But it’s here. And I have a much more high-end treatment from Solaris that can remove it from your body.”

Inara sank back on the examining bed. This brusque know-it-all young catgirl had also just calmly and matter-of-factly offered her life back. She could return to the Core, alive, with a long life ahead…. And she didn’t want to. Mal was too important now; they were lovers, and lovers they would remain.

It was very appropriate of the way the wheel of dharma worked. She had been led down the path she was meant to walk long enough to encounter a miracle in the form of a starship; when the blessings were dispensed, the one thing that she would have done with them for most of the past two years, she no longer wanted.

But a life with Mal, she very much did want.

  
  


The two returned to the waiting area, just in time for Elia to come out, with bloodshot, exhausted eyes. “Doctor Tam, Captain Reynolds,” She leaned against the bulkhead. “You can come see her now. The surgery was successful--both surgeries were.” She turned back in, at their eagerness, to where Va’tor was gently brushing River’s forehead.

“She’s still sedated?” Simon asked as he moved up to the other side. “Your non-invasive techniques for the physical portion are amazing.”

“Not sedated, but encouraged to sleep. Sedation may be required, though,” Va’tor explained. “Also _months_ of rehabilitation to make full use of the work that was done tonight.”

“We can handle that,” Simon Tam smiled, and glanced to Kaylee, who was grinning brilliantly. “We can handle that.”

Elia gently waved for Mal and stepped over to a quiet corner of the ward. “I have the information. There’s hundreds of them, in fact, and the experiments… They had genetic samples for telepathy; I’m not clear on how. This was part of a broad-based effort to enhance human thought in many cognitive areas. It involved torture and experimentation which led to brain damage of countless children. There’s a few dozen success stories who are alive and in various stages of experimentation or utilization.”

“Utilization.” The word twisted up Mal’s face. “Yeah, that’ll do. Especially with your help. How long until we get back to the station, Commander?”

“Two hours,” Elia answered. “I’m going to get some rack time. Turn in all-standing, frankly. Try to catch a caulk yourself, Captain. But we’ll get your Mate back. _Huáscar_ fears nothing.” With a sad smile, reflecting the inner pain she felt from River’s memories, Elia stepped out. She had to be ready to face them. And she would be. Because they were all in it together.

Behind her, Mal turned to look to Inara, who was smiling warmly. “So… Where are our guest quarters, anyway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story fully incorporates and is set during the Firefly follow-on comic "Leaves on the Wind" written by Whedon's brother under the Dark Horse banner.


	5. Act 4

**Act 4**

  
  
  


As the crew of the  _ Serenity  _ returned to her in the main bay, they could see the incredible intensity of the action as the  _ Huáscar  _ prepped for combat. Officers and warrants in their new light blue aviation uniforms with white and silver trim with Sam Browne belts oversaw an operation to prepare, after a long time on standby alert, the entire wing prepared for launch at the same time the assault shuttles were prepared to reinforce the landing effort, most of the working parties in overhauls and the ammunition handling and refueling teams in anti-spark gear. 

A tall woman with very light brown skin wearing the ubiquitous CE7  _ Huáscar  _ baseball cap with a simplified image of the ship in gold on a black background and her hair tied down in a braid below it headed over. She was in regular uniform but wearing a heavy pair of work gloves to pitch in as required. “Captain Reynolds?” 

“Miss…?”

“Chief Héen. I’m the Airboss,” she introduced herself, yanking a hand out a glove and presenting it. “We need to get your bird into the parasite bay. That’ll clear the space for full regular operations. I’d like your help striking her down on the elevator. The  _ Heermann  _ will be casting off in a few minutes and I want you on the elevator when she does.”

“ _ You’re jacking her up on gravity sleds!?”  _ Kaylee exclaimed. 

“You bet I am, ma’am,” Stasia replied tightly, but there was a grin. “Cheng?” 

“Cheng…”

“Chief engineer?” You’re her engineer?” 

“YES! Now stop!” 

“Can’t do that. We’re not supposed to launch you, because you could get left alone facing the enemy if the situation goes south,” Stasia answered readily. “But I can let you supervise.”

“ _ You want me to supervise your soldiers? Awh, but… _ ” The abruptly panic-stricken look on Kaylee’s face was met be a wry look on Stasia’s.

“Normally I’d tell you to get the hell out of my operation, ma’am, but it’s kinda like loading a semi-truck on a ferry. Unlike the car drivers, that trucker definitely knows how to handle his rig better than you do.”

“Didn’t think you people had anything like that with your fancy tech.”

“I’m from a planet you’d be able to look down on, and a town most of the ignorant bastards on said planet look down on too,” Stasia laughed. “Used to own a fishing trawler, ended up in the Navy when I was down on my luck. Come on, Miss…”

“Just call me Kaylee.”

“Right then. Let’s get your rig spotted.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


On the  _ Serenity,  _ it was just Mal, Kaylee and Inara. They were capable of handling the ship with that small of a crew, but it rubbed Mal wrong, anyway. He felt overwhelmed, tired, of course, and about as in over his head as he had at the Battle of Serenity. The  _ Huáscar  _ was a giant complication from his way of thinking, even if he could also see how it might be their only chance to stop being fugitives. 

The bigger bother at the moment was the reality that Zoe’s rescue was dependent on the kindness of strangers and the actions of a eight-million-metric-tonne behemoth a klick long which was from another universe. They were very much just along for the ride, and Mal didn’t like that  _ at all.  _

Kaylee was cleaning up from having assisted with the ship’s move onto the elevator. She was smiling. “So, we’re gonna get Zoe, and the Surgeon-Commander will get her fixed up, and we’ll leave with full tanks, full oxygen bottles, new recyclers and seventy metric tonnes of food.”

“Assumin’ that’s the way it’s gonna go,” Mal answered, looking at the gray walls of the bay through the windows of  _ Serenity _ ’s bridge. “And that’ll fix us for a while, but the entire Verse will be completely different by then. We might not need it. Captain Zhen’var might just go straight to Londinium and dictate terms at the point of the gun.”

“Do you really think she will?” Kaylee frowned. “And if they leave again afterwards, won’t that just make things worse?” 

“Yes, and maybe,” Mal answered -- and so did Inara. The two shot each other a look. Then Mal continued. “Well, anyhow, she’s got a pretty big iron for this fight. I’d do it, in her place.” 

“And what would come of it, Mal?” Inara, the Inner Worlder, who had once supported the Alliance, and still was queasier about facing them than most of the  _ Serenity _ ’s crew, asked sharply.

“A chance,” Mal answered, “for those people who are gonna die the next time the Alliance tries to perfect Pax, or whatever it is they get in their heads next. A chance.” Outside of the  _ Serenity,  _ the klaxons began to howl. It was time. 

  
  
  
  
  


The  _ Huáscar  _ was coming in at 0.7 _ c  _ when the engines kicked up to full power in deacceleration. The magnetic baffles redirected the thrust ahead and she rapidly began to slow. The tactical plot was projected on the bridge, and the  _ Heermann  _ was standing by under cloak, with the Wing at Ready 5. The long-range sensors, however, showed only two tower-and-arc, strangely shaped cruisers, together they massed as much as the  _ Huáscar,  _ so it scarcely mattered. 

Zhen’var looked at them for a moment. “That is not a design whose first objective is combat. Long range scans?” 

“Two different variants,” Elia answered. “Matching the  _ Serenity _ ’s recognition database as Tohoku-M and Tohoku-D types, the M is more of a mothership while the D has an enlarged engineering section for greater sublight turn and increased firepower.”

“Have they detected us yet?” 

“No evidence,” Elia shook her head. “They have a gunboat CAP, but they’re large enough for us to engage with secondary batteries. No shields. And no sign of armour, either.” 

_ Huáscar  _ continued to slow to match vee with the Hospital satellite, as the station was called. As they did, the lightspeed limited sensors of the two  _ Tohoku  _ class ships finally alerted on them, and a panicked cascade of emergency gunboat launches began. 

The presence of the cruisers did create a real situation. Zhen’var was intentionally stretching regulations. It was true that the Alliance had a right in its own laws to protect someone who had requested asylum, and it was true that an incapacitated person’s legal guardian could request asylum for them. But the law said asylum requests had to be made in person, precisely to prevent someone like Zhen’var from using them as an excuse. They hadn’t envisioned a situation where someone’s legal guardian requested asylum for them at a remove from the person it was being requested for. It was a tenuous legal loophole that, in the circumstance of the horrifying human rights abuses of the Allied Planets, Zhen’var intended to drive a truck through and then use a fig leaf. 

She figured Maran would back her right up to the hilt.  _ Either I’m getting court martialed or they’re going to fix the regs after that.  _ But it was a contented smirk. “Comms, hail those cruisers. Keep it neutral at first.” 

“ _ This is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. Please respond. This is the Allied Systems Cruiser Huáscar. Please respond. _ ” Tor’jar repeated the hail.

“This is the Allied Planets cruiser  _ Yuzhao _ ,” a voice answered immediately. “What kind of joke is this? There isn’t any ship in the fleet lists named the  _ Huáscar.  _ Allied  _ Systems?  _ Transmit your recognition codes immediately!” 

Zhen’var nodded to Tor’jar. “Improvise, Leftenant.”

A Dilgar grin matched her own. “We do not have valid recognition codes. We are from a different universe,” the comms section lead replied matter-of-factly. 

“Nothing exists outside of the  _ Verse,  _ this is ridiculous. We have a legal right to fire upon you if you do not transmit recognition codes,  _ Huáscar _ !” 

The gunboats began to look. Zhen’var glanced back to Elia. “Do you actually think they’ll fire first, Commander?”

“It would make our lives a lot easier if they did…”

“Repeat,  _ Yuzhao _ , we have no recognition codes to transmit.” 

A new voice came on the line. “Commander  _ Yuzhao  _ to unregistered vessel, if you have no recognition codes, you are hereby instructed and commanded to heave-to and prepare to be boarded,  _ Huáscar. _ ”

Zhen’var pushed the button on her command chair that overrode the feed personally to her. “Commander  _ Huáscar  _ to Commander  _ Yuzhao.  _ No.” The gunboats continued to rush toward her, bracketing the  _ Huáscar  _ perfectly, but despite the risk, it was more sure this way to stay within the letter of her orders, so she didn’t give the order. 

“ _ Huáscar,  _ this is your last warning to comply!”

“Commander  _ Yuzhao,  _ we are a foreign warship and you have no right to force us to heave-to.” 

This time, the  _ Yuzhao  _ answered with a burst transmission to her enforcement gunboats. They immediately dropped a large brace of EMP depth charges around the  _ Huáscar,  _ aiming to disable her. The electrical power on the bridge flickered. 

“Captain, shields at fifty percent,” Elia reported crisply. “They’re far more powerful than the directed weapons.” 

“You may fire when ready, Daria,” Zhen’var ordered. “Helm, let us pass between them!” 

Daria triggered the secondary pulse cannon and emitters. Moments later, sheets of plasma erupted from every quarter of the  _ Huáscar,  _ tracking the large enforcement gunboats the Alliance preferred. For their doctrine and role, they were excellent small craft, but they were ill-suited for the task at hand. Abruptly seventeen of the gunboats exploded in fire as the batteries of the  _ Huáscar  _ tracked them on their courses. They were too big to evade, and too small to resist.

Violeta was already bringing the  _ Huáscar  _ about and preparing to run between the two cruisers ahead, impulsors flaring as the ship’s acceleration and vee kicked up steadily again. As she did, she left the other Government gunboats behind. They hadn’t the g’s to keep up.  

“Ops, those EMP burst weapons might be strong but they are  _ very  _ short range and we need to confirm the location of our subject. While we’re between the gunboats and the cruisers, stand by to drop shields and transport the boarding teams to the station.”

“Sending alerts now and standing by,” Elia worked furiously on the synchronisation of the transport programs. She had to coordinate the successive beam-outs of the power armour troops who would secure the outer part of the TZ and then the regular Marines that would follow them in. 

“At your discretion, Ops!” The huge tower-ships loomed ahead, each half the mass of the  _ Huáscar. _

Elia dropped the shields and began the beam-out patterns to seize the station. The cruisers had wised up pretty well. As she did, they opened fire with their directed EMP weapons, and Elia sucked in her breath and continued the beam-outs.

The first of the EMP bursts hit the unshielded  _ Huáscar,  _ causing system failures and surges around the ship. Elia fought a private little war with the assistance of the computer banks, shutting off and shunting power in different sectors to keep the transporters from suffering potentially deadly surges. 

“We’re losing major weapons system power, Captain.” Daria reported urgently. “This disabling weapons are doing a number on the charge capacitors.” 

“Ops…” 

“Almost, Captain.” Gloved fingers whipped across the board as she checked the status of putting two companies of Marines on the Station. Four hundred and fifty troops were on the station a moment later, but the power on the  _ Huáscar _ ’s bridge went down and flickered away as emergency backups came on-line. 

“Ops!”

“Transports complete… Tertiary shields responding and cohesive, Captain.” 

“But we’ve lost weapons power?”

“Yes, Captain,” Elia answered, the main screen flickering on to see the tower ships closer, their EMP weapons continuing to fire. 

Daria’s hands flicked across her own console. “Captain, I am adjusting the torpedoes to launch at one meter per second cold vee,” she explained, “I can use local emergency power batteries to bring up the torpedo launchers. Torpedo motors will take over at that point but it will be almost a zero-zero launch so we’re going to need to hold course and speed to avoid hitting our torps and they’ll be sitting ducks for defensive systems. We’ll need to be at point blank.”

“Good thinking, tactical. Ops, how are the shields holding?” 

“Eighty percent on the tertiary banks, Captain,” the mildly flustered Elia answered. “Continued degradation is occurring and the enemy is charging plasma batteries.” 

“Hold course and speed.” Zhen’var next activated a comm line to Fei’nur on the station. “Colonel, do you have our subject?” 

“Captain, we do, but there is a hostage situation.”

“Still good enough. Tactical, full power for the torpedoes and stand by.” 

Both of the cruisers in front of them now opened fire with their short range plasma weapons. The  _ Huáscar  _ buffeted and buffeted again. 

“Captain?” Violeta glanced back. “Evasives?” 

“I want us right between the two ships,” Zhen’var answered levelly. “That’s the priority.”

_ I have discretion as long as I can put us there,  _ Violeta reminded herself. She constructed a corkscrew skewing motion to the  _ Huáscar  _ that would steady out with one of the cruisers on each broadside and activated it. 

“Anna, how long until we have restoration of full power?” 

“Four minutes, Captain!”

“Very well. We have our plan, stick to it.” Zhen’var had a neutral, level calm. 

“Tertiary shields at forty percent,” Elia updated her report. “Battery power to the torpedo launchers is stable. Shall we have the  _ Heermann  _ decloak and engage?”

“Our situation is not dire yet, let’s not play our trump card,” Zhen’var answered. “Weapons…”

“ _ Interposition with the enemy formation, Captain! _ ” Arterus reported from the nav console.

Violeta sharply straightened the  _ Huáscar’ _ s course, level and on line with the two cruisers on each beam. 

“Fire,” Zhen’var ordered.

With that single word, forty solar torpedoes were fired against each torpedo on the torpedo launchers fronting to that beam, in ten round bursts from the launchers. The point-defence weapons on both cruisers immediately opened fire, ripping through the torpedoes. 

The torpedoes might be accelerating slowly, but they also had a short distance to go as the two cruisers pulled away from each other and the  _ Huáscar,  _ trying to open the range and give themselves manoeuvring distance. 

The Tohoku-M managed to shoot down thirty-three of the torpedoes. Against the unarmoured and unshielded hull, the remaining seven  _ wrecked  _ it. One of the massive towers went spinning away, arcing with plasma. Gun mounts flew into space. Massive craters ripped through the annular ring of the lower hull and shattered it in one place that, without the cross connections, would have sent the strange tower ship drifting in pieces. All power flickered away from the windows and position lights as the main reactors went down. 

The Tohoku-D shot down thirty-seven torpedoes. Three slammed into it, coincidentally all reaching the one largest central tower from behind. The front explosively blew out as the lights went dark across the upper part of the ship from progressive power failures, gun emplacements decoupled from massive shattered hull sections of the seven hundred meter high tower, and the atmosphere blew outwards and flamed over before the remnants condensed to ice. With it were no small quantity of bodies. 

“ _ MY GOD, _ ” the open comm line to the Alliance ships exploded with a new voice. It was the  _ Yuzhao,  _ her thrusters firing as she started to come about under secondary control. “You’ve just killed  _ two thousand  _ civilians! Unidentified ship, stand down, stand down!” 

“Bring us about, Helm.” 

Violeta paled “Captain?”

“Bring us about, Helm.” Zhen’var flipped the comm over to transmit. “Commander Yuzhao this is Commander  _ Huáscar.  _ Do you strike, Sir?”

The  _ Huáscar  _ continued a lazy swing to starboard. 

Elia looked up from her console. “We are still receiving fires from the cruiser, Captain. Tertiary shields holding at twenty percent. No hull damage, but we’re going to be down to bare armour in another six minutes at this rate.”

“Tactical, lock solar torpedoes on target and stand by to fire on my mark.” Again the comm. “Commander Yuzhao, Commander Huáscar. If you do not surrender, Sir, when we come about, we will deprive you of your life, Sir.” She flipped to the intercom. “Engineering, I need weapons power now.”

“I’ve got you a few shots of the forward Mk.I’s from the batteries, Captain. That’s all I can do right now.” 

“That will be enough, thank you, Engineering.” Zhen’var quietly cleared her throat. “Tactical, all available weapons, stand by to fire.”

_ “Captain. _ ” Daria’s eyes squinted.  _ Was this moral?  _ Of course, the officer on the  _ Yuzhao  _ might be lying as a ruse d’guerre. The  _ Huáscar  _ shook around them. 

“Shields collapsing, Captain. There’s no more I can do to keep them cohesive,” Elia popped her knuckles. “Seconds, Captain.” 

“Commander Yuzhao, this is Commander Huáscar. Yield now or die.” Leaving the channel open, she pitched her voice. “ _ Tactical,  _ lock forward batteries on target, maximum firepower.” 

The officer on the other end of the comm could hear them, and spoke in Chinese, but the autotranslator rendered the words into English. “ _ My body may be broken, but my name shall live true in history. _ ”

Zhen’var closed her eyes. “Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Chapter Seventy-six. Guan Yu retreats to Maicheng.  _ Tactical,  _ Fire!”

For a brief moment, eighteen blazing shafts of light interconnected the two ships, and then the shattered tower erupted in flame, and vanished in a tremendous explosion of the main reactors. Silent in the vastness of space, the spinning debris and burning atmosphere scattered around the Hospital station. 

Elia broke the silence on the bridge with her perfectly collected British accent. “Mains to nominal, Captain. Instructions?” The prompt was all Zhen’var needed, she didn’t linger on the moment further.

“Helm, pursue those gunboats.” The  _ Huáscar  _ surged ahead. “Tactical, take them down.”

It was like a shark pursuing minnows. With their EMP charges exhausted, they had no weapons which could threaten the  _ Huáscar.  _ They were quickly taken under fire by accurate, precise weaponry of the highest power. Within a minute, it was clear that the gunboats couldn’t do anything other than die. 

So they did what good, brave officers did in that circumstance. Each one was a witness, each one had the same sensor data. Each one set a course toward a different point in the civilised parts of the Verse. Then they spun their drives to full power and burned hard for it. The  _ Huáscar  _ could only go in one direction at once. 

Her weapons were  _ hideously  _ long-ranged by the local standards, though. The gunboats were also  _ slow,  _ half the acceleration of the  _ Huáscar  _ herself despite the fact they were the fastest things in the System. Again and again the  _ Huáscar _ ’s secondary batteries fired, sending another gunboat to hell. 

“Captain, we’re not going to get all of them,” Elia said simply. “We’ll need the  _ Heermann  _ to decloak to get one, and even then we might not manage the last.”

“I don’t want them knowing about the  _ Heermann,  _ Ops.  _ Anyone. _ ”

Elia’s fingers danced through the controls, regardless of the gloves. “Full spectrum jamming established. Distance is sufficient there shouldn’t be a visual sight from the Hospital Station, Captain.” 

“Very good, Ops. Send the signal to Commander Imra.”

They were accelerating in pursuit of another of the gunboats, the great impulsors straining as the vee doubled and doubled again. The other two of the remaining three gunboats looked like they would get away scot free. Then the  _ Heermann  _ shimmered into view. Commander Imra did not hesitate. A burst from the pulse cannon combined with two solar torpedoes, and like a leering bird of prey on the bounce, the gunboat vanished into a quickly glowing dust of plasma. 

That left one, and even with the  _ Heermann  _ now in pursuit, she might well make it clear. Might, that is, if a larger version of the  _ Serenity  _ had arrived within sensor detection distance on an intercept course. 

Though a freighter, she quickly proved herself armed as the  _ Huáscar,  _ dispatching her last victim, turned about to begin the long-shot of pursuing the final gunboat. Instead of maintaining the pursuit, they had only to watch as their quarry died to the autocannon and missiles of the interloper, leaving the only Alliance forces the ruined Tohoku-M drifting off the Hospital station. 

“That made things unexpectedly simpler,” Arterus murmured. “Captain, they were certainly laying in wait based on their vector and velocity. They probably saw some of the battle and then chose to intervene.”

“Well well. Our new interloper seems to be opposed to the Central Government as well.” Zhen’var stretched her dew-claws against the granite armrests. “Hail them.” 

“Hailing..” Tor’jar looked up. “Finally a friendly response, Captain. They identify themselves as the New Resistance and request permission to approach.”

“Grant it. Ops, give them a vector.”

“Aye Captain.” 

“Stand down to Condition Yellow, maintain MC Zebra.” Zhen’var forced her claws to retract and tapped through her selection of comm links to interface with Colonel Fei’nur’s. “Colonel, status report?” 

  
  
  
  
  


Securing the station had been the easy part. The hard part was facing down the Alliance troops who were holding a woman in a hospital bed hostage. Zoe Washburne had given birth to her daughter, and the complications had almost killed her beyond the ability of  _ Serenity _ ’s simple medbay to assist. And so had begun the trap that the  _ Huáscar  _ had fortuitously saved them from, leaving Zoe to be captured by the Alliance, and also her life saved by the doctors of the Hospital Satellite. 

Mal’s deal with Zhen’var had been straightforward, but it came to Fei’nur to true it. Fei’nur and her troops. Simon had provided the rough area of the hospital she was certain to be in since she still had to be under care. Elia had provided the sensor data on the fly for the corridors. 

During the risky and damaging lowering of the shields she had elected to risk to guarantee they kept their end of the deal, the  _ Huáscar _ ’s Ops officer had systematically beamed power armour strike teams down to close off approaches to all of the Transport Zones. On arriving, they had sprayed the area around them with heavy automatic fire and flechette grenades to suppress any immediate resistance. Most of the collateral casualties were in this phase. Fei’nur and Elia hadn’t mentioned that to the crew of the  _ Serenity.  _

Once safely on the station, they had taken up positions to cover the arrival of the two companies of regular Marines. Storming from position to position under the cover of flash-bangs and with weapons set to stun, they had systematically picked apart all possible resistance while their Corpsmen took over for the doctors they had stunned to avoid more civilian casualties. The plan was methodical, and Fei’nur tolerated nothing but the execution of the plan, mindful of trusting her noncoms and junior officers to be smarter than the ones she had fought with in the Dilgar War.

The Alliance forces and security personnel for the Hospital Satellite barely amounted to forty armed individuals in all. They had been suppressed within five minutes, while the  _ Huáscar  _ was still in her hard fight. Then the problems had started, or rather the single salient problem: An Alliance officer had a gun to Zoe Washburne’s head. 

Network-centric warfare has been around since the wireless telegraph was invented. More and more effort was devoted to the coordination of troops, which mattered much more than individual capabilities. Or, in this case, the speed of datasynching and transmission was the only variable for how long it took the hostage crisis to be resolved. 

Each squad reported to each platoon that they had secured their objectives. The information was collated and delivered to the Colonel’s command post. The particulars of the hostage situation and the demands of the hostage-takers were related to the Colonel’s command post. This process took about two minutes, most of which was Fei’nur’s verification of the reports from each unit; it took Fei’nur another forty-five seconds to confirm with her subordinate commanders that they didn’t need her for anything. Then it took another three minutes for her to physically reach the ward that Zoe Washburne was in. Arriving and doing counterchecks with the outer security squad, they used their taclink to alert the others. 

Thirty seconds later, Fei’nur had finished activating her cloak and walking up alongside Lieutenant Rodgers. This was the kind of situation Warmaster Jha’dur had  _ created  _ Spectres for, among others. In the pristine canned air of a space station, there was nothing to give her away. The squad of Government police fronting his standoff with the Marines were alerted only by the expressive exhalation of air which marked the noise of a man dying to a blade driven deep through lung and heart.

Fei’nur had already grabbed the gun, and with cybernetically enhanced strength, guaranteed that as the Lieutenant died, he sprayed his own squad with fire. Men screamed with wounds. Fei’nur flung the body forward and dived below the bed as a burst of stun fire swept from her troops across the remaining security police. The combat had taken seventeen seconds. 

Sometimes the Personal  _ did  _ matter. Fei’nur’s cloaking device deactivated. “Leather, this is Shovel. Tagging subject for immediate transport to sickbay.” At the same moment she said that, she tapped the transporter transponder to Zoe Washburne’s shoulder.

“Leather copies. Confirming with Ginger… Confirmed. Transport commencing.”

“I just got rescued by a giant cat? What drugs did…” Zoe flashed away from the table.

“Not just any giant cat,” Fei’nur sniffed. The human had been correct, however; Fei’nur was much larger than a typical female Dilgar. From start to finish the operation had had the character of an execution rather than a battle, just the way she liked it.


	6. Act 5

**Act 5**

 

An hour later, Mal and Simon arrived for a conference that Zhen'var had requested, Inara following; Kaylee was taking care of Emma. They came into the Conference Room to see Zhen'var, Abebech, Fei'nur, a young woman with short black hair and long coloured blue bangs, and … Jayne Cobb.

"What're you doing here, Jayne?" Mal bored straight in on his one-time crewmate to the exclusion of the others.

"Came to help out," Jayne answered. It wasn't particularly convincing.

"Some introductions might be in order," Abebech observed mildly, cutting off any potential continued questioning.

Jayne looked over at the sitting woman. "Why the hell you wearin' those sunglasses on a spaceship anyway?"

"Because my Doctor said I could," Abebech replied.

Jayne was perturbed by the nonchalant nonanswer, but there was something about Abebech Imra… "Well, yah look like some kinda … Secret agent, with 'em on."

As a matter of fact, it wasn't off the wall as a lot of things Jayne said. Mal himself had wondered about the commander of the  _Heermann._ He reckoned he knew a predator when he saw one, but the attitude wasn't unique to secret agents. He'd seen a few good light attack ship handlers just like her in the past. They were dead, like most everyone else from the war. The point remained.

"Well, I think we've all been introduced before, Commander," Mal broke the briefly uncomfortable silence, "except for this young Lady who came in with Jayne, it seems."

"My name is Bea, Captain Reynolds. I came to ask you to lead the New Resistance. I wanted you to be our symbol, the promise of a renewed challenge to the tyranny and evil which allowed Miranda to happen. Instead, I saw you had already taken action, with these powerful friends of liberty you have discovered."

Mal froze. After a moment he raised his hand, then he frozen again, and lowered it. Finally, he settled for bracing them on the back of a chair, still standing. "Now listen here, Young Miss. You're  _barely_ an adult. You come wearing a brown coat and you haven't fought yet. I woulda been as angry as all creation to see you without the  _Huáscar,_ because like as not you'd have been followed and I'm  _sure_ Jayne is just helpin' you."

Bea's expression tensed into a frown.

"Listen good, y'hear. Wars need more than symbols. This cruiser could go a long way, you're right, but if we were going to try and carry the war to Londinium,  _millions would die._ They would use the fact we're allied to outsiders and aliens to rally popular opinion in the Inner Worlds. The students protesting against the government would turn into volunteers. They'd seed lies about our friends and turn our own civilians against us. And for all their kindnesses so far, I had 'em attack that satellite to save my First Mate, not to kick a war off. You think their own government is going to support that for the  _years_ it takes? Best people in the world, and will they want to see their daughters and sons go off to die here at the end of what I hear is a month-long supply line? You're startin' with less than the Independent Worlds had. A lot less. Without this cruiser we wouldn't even be havin' this conversation. No offense intended, Captain Zhen'var." He finally moved to sit down.

"None taken, Captain. You are the man on the spot, as it were.."

"Of course, there is the possibility we could end the war in an afternoon," Abebech added calmly. "Captain, I would encourage full disclosure about the destination we have been trying to reach. We have powerful evidence these people are not a threat to us."

"Of course, Commander Imra." She turned her gaze on the locals that were present. "We are currently heading towards the source of a powerful jamming field that prevents faster-than-light travel. It is artificial, and before committing to action, I wish it neutralized."

"There's a jamming field that prevents the use of your FTL drive across the entire system?" Simon looked fascinated. "I wonder if this is why FTL experiments in the Alliance have never gone anywhere…"

"Correct. Not centralized, but in a far quadrant of the system, near one of the near-stars. Communications punch through to a non-effected band." She would tap at her omnitool, and bring up a display of the system.

"Close to Miranda," Mal said. His voice grew soft. "We'll help yah go for it, if there's any way we can be of assistance. It'll get us away from here. Can you deal with any Reavers that are left?"

"We can. The particular method will depend on whether certain experimental treatments prove successful, Captain Reynolds."

"God help 'em if they can ever realize what they've done."

"Can we stop with all this crazy talk?" Jayne interjected again. "Just kill the Reavers. That's what a warship this big is for."

"We will keep our own counsel on those issues," Abebech dismissed, a glint of light on her sunglasses flashing. "I would suggest the New Resistance concentrate with us. We can take your ship, Captain," she addressed Bea, and then looked to Mal, "And your's, with us to explore. You can assist. We'll clear Miranda and use it as a base for your New Resistance. The Alliance won't believe that for quite some time, I expect."

"It isn't  _my_ Resistance, Commander," Mal answered. "But it is a good plan."

"We have a start, then. I should leave you to discuss matters. This is  _your_  home system, after all."

"I can make the arrangements to bring your ship aboard for the fast transit to our intended destination," Abebech addressed Bea as she rose with Zhen'var and Fei'nur. " _Heermann_ will remain deployed and your troops provided quarters aboard, though it will only be a day.

"Thank you, Captain, Commander." The young woman looked at them both, and then focused on Mal.

Inara smiled faintly, and moved closer at the table. She saw a need for her own judiciousness.

As the  _Huáscar_ 's officers filed out, however, Abebech paused and glanced back in the room. "Just as a point of fact, Mister Cobb, you should probably learn to better suppress your surface thoughts around telepaths."

"Hey! Just what'd you see in my…" Jayne trailed off, the door having already closed. He moved to sit back down, looking nervously from side to side.

"Got somethin' to hide, Jayne?" Mal asked.

"Don't worry, Captain Reynolds," Bea offered. "I made sure at gunpoint he didn't pull a double cross. My associates are quite familiar with Jayne Cobb. We came in clean."

"You  _think_ you came in clean. Now, look. I'll help you run this little rebellion of your's, get us settled on Miranda. But I am  _not_ the leader. I am  _not_ your symbol. I am just a man with a ship and a gun, and a man who sure as the devil doesn't ever want to see what happened there come again. So I'll fight. But I don't want you putting my name out there."

"Mal, it's too late for that. The Alliance does it every day with their wanted posters. You can't hide anymore. And for those people who hate or fear the Alliance, those wanted posters are symbols of  _hope._

" _No statues,_ and no turnin' me into someone they make statues of! He's got a statue," Mal wagged a finger at Jayne, "and look at  _him._  I am a free man, and I am in this so that I can remain that way."

Outside, the little knot of  _Huáscar_ officers briefly congregated. "I apologise for pushing my plan so assertively," Abebech offered. "I'll make the arrangements with Chief Héen and then return to the  _Heermann,_ by your leave, Captain."

 _No need to apologise, Abebech._ "Worry not, I do expect initiative. Go ahead and arrange matters, Commander, leave is so granted."

"Thank you, Captain. If Fera'xero's last calculations were correct, we'll be there in twenty hours at a more leisurely pace, fourteen if we push it. I recommend taking a bit of time. We have a great advantage in sublight turn, and the crew has been pushed hard and could use the rest. We'll be thankful even for the chance to sleep in our bunks on  _Heermann._ For that matter, Colonel, your Marines have already fought two boarding actions, and this could turn into a third."

"Or worse, yes. At least a solid shift of rest will be incredibly useful." Fei'nur replied, as Zhen'var pursed her lips. "Let Cafe Varma open for a single half-shift, relax Condition Zebra long enough to let the crew have a proper rest with some circulation."

"I'll let Elia know. Thank you, Captain." With that, Abebech thrust herself up one of the ladders going through a tiny emergency hatch that were the only way for them to move out of the immediate vicinity of the docking bays. Among other things, relaxing their MC posture would just make it easier to get  _anywhere_ in transit. Including possibly to bed.

 

 

 

 

As the crew from Bea's New Resistance ship was processed to temporary quarters, including the troops aboard, one man of middling age and strong, dark features fell in wearing the same uniform. He was scanned through by the crew of the  _Huáscar_ and they assumed he was part of the crew of the Resistance ship.

The crew of the Resistance ship around him assumed he was part of the crew of the  _Serenity._ He didn't bother to correct them. They didn't matter one way or another after all, under his prior plan they would have all been dead. But now he needed a better one, so he was going to make it for himself.

The new vessel, being military and properly secured, was intimidating in its own right, but there were ways around the security protocols, ways to overcome sensors. And he was not going to fail at his one chance for revenge and redemption; it would be Jubal Early who took the credit for bringing Mal Reynolds to his knees.

 

 

 

 

The cruiser which had previously been orbiting over Sihnon was now burning hard for the outer system. Aboard, a young dark haired woman in typical nondescript Alliance uniform dress sat in a grand, cathedral like hall aboard the ship. She was absolutely composed and silent, until the transmission came through.

She faced a half-dozen men and women. She knew who they were, but they didn't reveal themselves, and that was right and proper.

"Operative Kalista," one of them began, "What is your assessment of the attack on the Pacification Force?"

"They are operating in conjunction with the terrorists on the  _Serenity,_ of course, which means the interloper vessel has detailed information on our Government corresponding with the knowledge of the crew of the  _Serenity_ and access to CORTEX."

"Thank you. After completing the attack they withdrew into the extreme outer system limits. Why?"

"They can only have one destination. They use FTL," Kalista said matter-of-factly, "and it almost certainly dictates the layout of their ship. By simple rational inference they plan on the strategic advantages of its utilization. Object Sigma is therefore protecting us from the interloper vessel using the full extent and range of its strategic advantages against us."

There were quiet looks around the table. Kalista felt it likely that her rulers, the real rulers of the Alliance, were mildly horrified. A vessel which had slagged two cruisers without apparent visible damage-the recordings had been pulled from the Hospital Satellite after the withdrawal of the interloper's forces-and was clearly extra-system. They were still debating on where it came from, but that was not important right now. They were not pleased to realise the implications that the situation could, in fact, get substantially worse.

"If Object Sigma is protecting us from the interloper's full strategic advantages…"

"Their reason for withdrawing into the outer system is obvious. Their destination is Object Sigma. Prepare the personnel there to ambush them on arrival with everything they have. I am already mustering fleet assets to the full authority permitted me under the law; send more. If the enemy proves able to neutralise Object Sigma, then the entire System will open for them to operate in at will, including bringing strategic reinforcements into the System much more easily than they otherwise would. As it stands now that vessel is operating without reinforcement. We have no guarantee that will remain true if Object Sigma is neutralized by their firepower. The strategic assessment is that they will destroy the Alliance Navy in an afternoon if they can use FTL in the System-or we'll concentrate the entire fleet in one mutually supporting mass over Londinium or Sihnon and watch as we lose the entirety of the outer system  _and_ half the Inner Worlds. We must stop them from doing so."

 

 

 

 

Simon had been reluctant (and that was a modest way of putting it) to leave his sister overnight, but he had needed rest, and Kaylee had finally pressed him into taking a bunk. The next morning had two days since her procedure, and in physical terms the healing that River had needed was minor; completely non-invasive micro-transporter surgery meant even brain surgery was something you only needed two nights of rest and recovery from to be up and walking around, at least if you were an otherwise healthy teenager, and naturally Nah'dur had a carefully prepared cocktail of drugs to eliminate complications, which she injected in extended release form in a self-dissolving capsule under the skin.

It was still an  _emotional_ surprise to see River up and walking around. She was dressed in crisp all-blacks with gloves that matched Elia's perfectly, and the woman had a confident expression and an arm around River's shoulders as she helped her walk. She also had a big pair of wrap-around sunglasses. "Good morning, Captain Reynolds, Doctor Tam, Companion Serra," Elia greeted. "...And…"

"Call me  _Kaylee,_  I don't know where you're goin' with all them titles," the  _Serenity_ 's engineer flipped back, holding Emma Washburne.

"Commander Saumarez. The Surgeon-Commander is letting her up already?" Simon's face lit up. " _Meimei_ "

"Yes, though she might be sensitive to light for a while, thus the shades…"

_Simon, you have no idea of what she's been able to do so far. Her and Hygienist-Commander Va'tor. They've made it so I won't have flashbacks anymore and taught me how to block out the thoughts of others. Isn't this cool? We can talk without anyone hearing us. Except other telepaths._

Simon Tam was brought up short for a moment. Then he grinned.  _Yes. Yes it is._ There was no stopping him from hugging River, then, the gesture completely unadulterated by anything except joy.

Elia smiled fondly. "She's got one hell of a brother, you know."

"There's somethin' to be said for their family loyalty, you got that right," Mal replied. "Why the gloves, Commander?"

"It's a cultural expectation of human telepaths in the universe I come from. Actually, a legal one, too. We are segregated and marked with gloves and badges, the gloves on the theory that they prevent accidental scans, which is only sort of true; the badges on the principle of marking us as servants of the government. But in the case of the former, we treat them as a matter of modesty, and in the later, as a matter of pride. The organisation is called the Psi-Corps and it is a home for eighteen million of us."

 _Are you comfortable with all of this?_ Simon asked River as they embraced.

"You make it sound like you're slaves," Inara said, staring hard at the gloves. "Was that really the lesson you wanted to teach her?"

_Yeah, they know a lot more than I do so I'm learning a lot. These uniforms are nice and scary._

"It's about community solidarity and pride now, Ma'am," Elia answered. "An oppressed people, but we are not slaves. River will have to make her own choices, but in the meanwhile, what kind of woman would I be if I didn't give a naked girl in the street clothes? That's simply my culture. I might add the Allied Systems regard the actions of my homeworld with hatred and disgust. The Earth Alliance will never be permitted membership because of it. I myself am an exile because my stand against genocide would have required my termination if I returned home, for violating the laws against telepath participation in politics. The Earth Alliance and your Alliance of Planets share  _many_ similiarities, none of them good."

"You have my condolences…" Mal seemed sincerely happy at seeing River receiving treatment, even if Elia could sense a bit of concern, a reasonable one.

"It's fine. I have a family here in the Mha'dorn, and it's their pin I wear. The guild of the Dilgar telepaths," she added. "River has perfect free will and freedom under our law. I merely wanted to give her an opportunity to know the living of her cousins, however distant."

"Is Commander Imra from your world as well?"

"No, and I don't actually know why she wears gloves. Espers in her home universe don't."

"Huh." Mal looked at Elia for a moment. "Well, how's Zoe doing?"

"Oh, well, I can offer more good news, then," Elia smiled. "One of the medical orderlies is taking her up to Café Varna in a hover chair. Would you like to all have breakfast together?"

"Would we?" Kaylee looked like she was going to shriek in happiness, and Inara hastily took baby Emma from her.

"You bet we would!"

Elia grinned. "All right then, let's go enjoy service with a surly grimace and utterly delicious food…"

"You have a  _restaurant_ on a  _spaceship_?"

Soon enough they were all seated at one big table at Café Varna. The looks that Zoe got when she was rolled up were absolutely spectacular. Elia could feel the relief everyone felt. Their community was complete.

Complete, with the awkward question mark of Jayne Cobb sitting by himself at a table five paces away, occasionally trying not to look at them. Elia could feel the tension.

 _< Jayne's very treacherous, but Mal never gave up on him before. I think his leaving to go back home to his mother when the rest of us were in hiding was sorer than the times he tried to double-cross us,> _River explained. < _And it was a big risk, if you weren't here, his showing up with Bea could have been a lot of trouble. >_

"How are you feeling, Zoe?" Mal was asking.

"Gettin' better, Sir. Good to see my daughter. No offense to ya but they got one heck of a sickbay here, Doc," she addressed Simon.

"None taken. I can only hope I live long enough to understand everything Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur has been telling me.

 _< Is that trouble you could have really avoided?> _Elia asked in her own conversation as the other one continued across the table.

 _< We were trying,> _River answered innocently.

Jayne finally got up. "Mind if I join y'all?" He asked as he stepped over.

"Don't think it's my business to stop you from sittin' down," Mal answered.

Zoe was holding her daughter. She took a measured look at the  _Serenity_ 's hired muscle.

"Good to see yah both out of the hospital," he offered to River and Zoe. "Kid's Wash's, or...?"

"...You got any other idea about who's it could be?" Zoe fixed a Stare on Jayne.

Jayne stiffened. "No. Looks like 'im." After a bit more of uncomfortable silence, Jayne made a shadow of looking at the menu. "What's all this stuff on here? It's all got funny names."

"It's Bulgarian food," Elia shrugged. "Probably didn't survive as a culture in this universe."

"Y'all already order?"

"Yeah, there's enough for ya, Jayne," Mal said. "We let Elia order, she knows the food. She's also payin' for us, since they don't use the same currency. For which I thank you again," he added, addressing her.

Elia couldn't help but smile at the fact that she'd gotten close enough to them for Mal to use her first name. "Oh, you're quite welcome. I don't mind. I'm optimistic about getting my trust fund back someday."

"You had a trust fund? Why'd you lose it?"

"I was a Lord's daughter, you'd say," Elia answered. "When my telepathy manifested my parents left me a trust when they rendered me over to the Corps. But the government froze it after the Tira crisis, which is why I am here. And for the moment, as broke as you are. Well, not quite true; I've been collecting a government paycheck for a year without really spending it on anything. I can afford a treat for River's family."

"Don't have much use for Lords," Mal answered, "but most of their kids wouldn't know what to do without their dad's money. You've made pretty well for yourself, so I'd count you a cut above the rest of 'em."

The food showed up. Strong black coffee, boza, and tea. "Princess" sandwiches, press-grilled bread with minced meat on some and egg and cheese on others, with fresh tomato quarters on the side. Banitsa pastries, and mekitsa, served with jam, honey, yoghurt, and cheese in little trays.

"Thank you, Alexandra," Elia offered.

"It does look like she makes some mighty fine grub," Mal remarked, impressed with the spread.

"You see us all as River's family?" Zoe asked.

"I think it's pretty obvious, and I'm thankful and want to encourage it. Telepaths are usually abandoned by normals, mistrusted, mistreated, turned against. One of the reasons we hew to the Corps so strongly is the risk of pogrom and genocide," Elia levelly met their eyes. She saw Jayne turn away and then meet them again, uncomfortable.

"By the time the Alliance was done, following the course we discovered, I fear that people like River would have become symbols of horror and terror in the Verse. Enforcers of totalitarianism. We have a chance to stop that, and maybe, your culture can accept them as mine did not."

"That's what they're training everyone for," River explained. "Enforcement. That's why we're all girls, because telepathy is passed through the mitochondria so it makes sense for the initial telepathic subjects to all be female."

"Well, one more thing we're gonna try and stop," Mal met Elia's eyes levelly. "You're right. She's part of our family."

"What am I then, Mal? We gonna settle that?" Jayne sounded aggrieved and almost hopeful all at once.

"A man who made a choice, Jayne. And I'm not sure you or anyone else can undo that. But right, I'll tell yah what. I saw the way you looked when we found out what happened on Miranda. Now's the chance to get back at the people who did it. And you don't have any other good option. They won't stop huntin' for you, not now. Not once they tie you to what happened to those cruisers. I may not much like your choices, but if you can stay loyal in a fight we'll need plenty of people who I may not much like the choices of."

Jayne was silent for a moment and then jerked his head. "Ai'right. I'm in."

 

 

 

 

Once aboard the ship, it was clear that he couldn't linger long with the Resistance troopers in the regular bunkings, normally used for refugees but comfortable enough by the standards of the Outer systems for regular use. They would be content that he was a crewmember on the  _Serenity,_ but someone would check with them eventually. Finding the replicator in the quarters incredibly useful, he feigned replicated someone that looked like vomit and feigned illness so the others would take away. For two nights he kept it up.

Then, the scuttlebutt in the crew that the Resistance fighters were repeating was that they were nearing their destination. He got up, but instead of following them to the communal mess for breakfast, he split off in another direction to familiarise himself with how the markings of the ship were laid out and to find an armoury.

Finally, he walked past an armoury, clearly indicated as such by the guard. The man was attentive enough to follow him with his eyes as he walked past, and so Jubal kept on going. Fortunately, the Union had plenty of options for dealing with that kind of situation. They specialised in the use of disabling and jamming equipment. Jubal doubled back until he found a grate which was loose from a repair to some shock damage or such after the late battle. Using a penlight he confirmed that the arrows showed a power mains conduit heading in the direction of the armoury. He activated the EMP grenade and tossed it inside, then quickly covered his head with a mesh bag-the charge was powerful enough it could disrupt nerves at that close range.

There was no dramatic explosion or noise, just a peculiar, uncomfortable heat, and power through the entire sector went down. He lunged up into the grate, kicking off the wall to gain access to the equipment crawlspace above. There he retrieved the expended grenade and re-attached it to his belt, then resecured the panel from above so that it would not look like it had ever been loose.

While the monitoring and detection systems were down, Jubal systematically disconnected them, crossing circuits to guarantee a positive response in the system when it came back up. With an armoury in the sector, the engineering response was prompt, and the systems were back up twenty minutes later, but Jubal's work was already done.

Muttering to themselves about the fault, the engineers left, and Jubal dropped back down to the deck and re-secured the panel. Then he headed back toward the armoury. The watch had just changed for the morning; perfect. The guard was settling into his routine and distracted confirming to the security computer that he was on duty.

This trivial administrative task cost him his life. Jubal whipped out a knuckle-duster punch to the back of the head which drove him into the wall. The second strike brought the brass on the side of his hand down against the man's neck and snapped it.

Then he used his hand to authenticate the door while it was still warm.  _Time to get some gear._ Even if his plan to draw the Union down on them didn't work, seizing the bridge would certainly  _help._

 

 

 

 

It had been two days out in the  _Heermann._ She was comfortable enough for the first four or five days, but the novelty of the cramped habitation spaces wore off after that. Still, they were in action, instead of docked aboard and waiting, and that mattered. They were the point guard and they were proud of it, in this strange system, where there was a threat at every quarter.

Two nights out from the Hospital Satellite, she was presently leading the  _Huáscar_ under cloak. They were finally approaching their original objective, though the lack of energy readings outside of the jamming had made resolving the target difficult. It was painted dark and in the circumstances, distant from any star, it initially seemed like a battered asteroid. The bridge crew were as quiet as a tomb as it slowly resolved into something more, and Commander Imra leaned forward, chin masked by two gloved hands pressed together.

"I'm picking up a debris trail," Goodenough reported a moment later. He turned from his console, swiveling his chair to face Abebech. "Captain, micrometeorite impacts consistent with three thousand years in position."

"That makes sense," Abebech replied, barely above a murmur. "Range?"

"Four thousand kilometres," Mehmet sang out. "Still no power readings."

"Zero-zero. Can we resolve the target?"

Ca'elia's steady hand on the helm brought the  _Heermann_ to a 'relative' dead stop vis-a-vis the position of the object.

"Yes, Captain, coming in now… My God."

A colour-corrected image blinked onto the viewscreen, artificially enhanced, none of which took away from its power.

Ca'elia growled softly.

"Abdulackbar," Mehmet whispered.

Goodenough tore his eyes away from the screen, to the command chair where Abebech had made a visceral grunt and sank back into the cushions.

"Commander," she cleared her throat, and for a moment Goodenough thought that something caught in it. "Laser com back to the  _Huáscar_ everything. They need to see this. Captain Zhen'var needs to see this."

 

 

 

 

Back on the  _Huáscar,_ Elia blinked at the transmission.  _This isn't good._ "Captain, laser burst from the  _Heermann_ coming through now."  _Abebech wouldn't break comms silence for nothing._

"Let me see it on my small screen. Keep on alert, if the enemy knows why our course is shaped as it is, they will be waiting..."

Elia sent the message over. As she did, she watched it herself, and felt a chill starkly cross her skin.

It was a ship, with something of the form of a squared rocket, tapering toward the nose. Two great squared oblong deck clusters thrust up from the main hull, and what might have been the track of a mass driver lay along the dorsal hull. The armour was thick, immensely thick, twenty metres or more, and was gouged and torn in every place. She hung in space, a ghost ship of an ancient battle.

She was  _three kilometres long,_ massing twenty-seven times the  _Huáscar_ if the sensor estimates were remotely relevant. Huge areas of the hull were opened to bared skeleton of her frame, charred and blackened, massive sectors of plates twisted and rent. Massive firepower had torn and rent her, and yet she was intact.

"Divine, what  _is_  that…? No match in the database, of such an ancient wreck, I assume and  _that_  is the source of the FTL interdiction field?"

"Yes, it is, Captain," Elia answered quietly. "No question. At this range we can localise it very precisely."

"Take us closer, then, very slowly. I want a swing around that…  _beast_  of a hulk to clear all sensor shadows before we enter weapons range." Zhen'var forced her hands to rest on the arms of her chair.

"Long range sensors now suggest it still has an atmosphere across at least half of the internal structure," Fera'xero reported.

"Captain, shall we prepare our Marines to assault the hulk?" Elia asked. "The New Resistance ships could be launched as well and we could stand off on guard covering the entire hull."

"Tell the Colonel to prepare her companies, but be  _cautious_. I do not like the looks of this, that thing puts me on edge." Zhen'var tried to pin down just what had her so worried.

Suddenly, Elia's senses flared with danger, threat, warning. All from behind. She spun toward the entrance of the bridge to see an African man with a UAS type pulse pistol drawn, aimed at Zhen'var. Elia had no time to make a decision about anything, and fear for her best friend in the multiverse drove what she did next. She knew intimately how terrified, privately, Zhen'var was of being taken prisoner on her bridge again. At times at dock when the bridge was empty or she had control at secondary control, she had even drilled it. Elia reached out, more on instinct than thought.

Zhen'var felt the intense, all-encompassing feeling of Elia's warm closeness to her, the telepathic equivalent of a bear hug of her mind. Elia's reassurance came even as she triggered the muscle sequence and plan that Zhen'var had drilled. This was faster still than simply assuming control of her; within her friend's mind she found the plan she had trained to execute, and had her rolling from chair, pistol in her right hand as her left slapped a button on her belt.

The infiltrator's gun spoke, even as an iron hand lunged out from the man to wrench Fera'xero from his chair. And Elia, for a horrifying moment balanced on the precipice of not knowing whether or not her effort had worked, refused to draw back, even if it meant she followed her friend to The Door.

 

**_To Be Continued…._ **


End file.
